


(un)lost

by lazyfish



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Inhumans (Marvel), Pregnancy, Unplanned Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-11
Updated: 2018-06-05
Packaged: 2019-04-21 09:02:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 39,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14281521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lazyfish/pseuds/lazyfish
Summary: The world is fluid, and circumstances change. Desperation leads Bobbi back to S.H.I.E.L.D., and the rest is history.Canon divergence after the end of season four, Huntingbird-centric.*ON HIATUS*





	1. i'm not looking for anything in particular

Fact: Bobbi Morse hated asking for help.

Fact: Bobbi Morse needed help, desperately.

She and Lance had been on the run for a long time – two years, two weeks, and one day, her mind helpfully supplied – and while it had worked for them most of the time, it was becoming untenable. They had more people on their tails than they knew what to do with, and it was only because of their combined skill sets and a fair amount of luck that they hadn’t already been caught. They needed help, and there had even been a plan for how to get said help without attracting too much unnecessary attention. 

Like all of their plans, it quickly went to shit. Probably because it had been Hunter’s idea, and all of his ideas were bad ones. Bobbi’s heart squeezed at the thought, because no matter how much she teased Lance about his incompetence, she knew it was both of their faults. She hadn’t been able to think of a better plan, after all. And even if he was an incompetent idiot, Bobbi would have given an arm and a leg (or a lung and a knee) to have him there with her.

Instead, she was walking down a back street in Worcester, Massachusetts, her hands shoved in the pockets of an oversized sweater even though it was practically May. With the hood pulled over her head and her hair in her face, she looked suspicious. But that was part of the plan. God, why had she agreed to a plan that had ‘look suspicious’ as one of its steps? Bobbi huffed out an annoyed sigh and continued scuffing along the street.

She passed by a group of men smoking cigarettes as they leaned against the brick front of an abandoned building, and they all leered at her. It did not improve Bobbi’s mood whatsoever, but she didn’t have the time to deal with them. Besides, she was supposed to look a certain kind of suspicious, and leaving a half-dozen unconscious men in an alleyway was not the correct kind of suspicious. She was going for shady, but not particularly dangerous. That was difficult for Bobbi, since she practically oozed danger when she was pissed off, and yup, she was still pissed about this whole plan and the fact that it was not going as expected.

Bobbi didn’t know how long she walked around Worcester, hunching her shoulders and avoiding eye contact with just about anyone, but as the sun began to sink towards the horizon, she let out another sigh. This had been going on for almost a week now – her sulking around and trying to look suspicious, but with little result.

She was about to resign herself to another failed day and slink back to her hidey-hole when a patrol car, emblazoned with an eagle on the side, rolled up to her on the sidewalk. The officer inside flashed his lights once to acknowledge that it was a disciplinary sort of stop, and Bobbi halted her ambling pace beside the cop car – the S.H.I.E.L.D. cop car. They were a relatively new presence, and only in some areas. Bobbi had spent more time than she cared to name thinking about whose idea it would be to make S.H.I.E.L.D. cop cars. She hoped it wasn’t Coulson’s.

“Miss,” the officer said, pulling Bobbi out of her head. “We’ve received reports of a suspicious figure in the area. Would you happen to know anything about that?” He hadn’t left the car, which was interesting. No way he’d be able to shoot her if he stayed in his seat – the angle was all wrong, and all she had to do was move a few feet to one side to make it impossible for him to hit her without breaking his arm. 

“Nope,” Bobbi replied, popping the p sound before moving as if to continue her walk.

“Miss,” the officer repeated, opening his door and stepping out of the car. Good. This was good. “I’m going to have to ask you to take your hands out of your pockets, please.” Bobbi complied, holding both of her hands with her palms facing towards the officer. He wasn’t very good at this whole arresting thing, Bobbi thought, holding back a roll of her eyes. If she had wanted to hurt him, she could have knocked him out by now. He hadn’t even said that she was the suspicious figure yet, even though she obviously was. Who else was wandering around in an area known for its high levels of Watchdog activity, looking extremely Watchdog-ish? 

“You understand that the threat of the Watchdogs…” Bobbi tuned out the rest of what the man had to say about the Watchdogs. She knew. She and Hunter hadn’t been the best about keeping up with the news, but it would take an idiot not to know that the Watchdogs were becoming a Problem, capital p and all. “… so we’re required to take you in for questioning.” Bobbi wasn’t a super big fan of the whole ‘taking everyone in for questioning’ tactic, especially since she had done literally nothing other than walk around, but she did want to be taken in, and it was for the better that it wasn’t for an actual crime of any sort. Mass hysteria was helpful this time around.

Bobbi shrugged her shoulders as nonchalantly as possible. “You gonna cuff me?” She asked, raising her eyebrows. The officer seemed surprised by the question, but nodded slowly. Bobbi presented her wrists to him, wondering whether she was being too compliant or just behaving like a seasoned criminal who wasn’t bothered by being arrested. She wasn’t sure which of the options was worse for her whole deception. Bobbi wasn’t used to this – to not being perfectly on point, and making possible errors in judgement. She blamed Lance and his stupid plan for all of this.

The cuffs were clicked on and Bobbi was assisted into the back of the squad car, not that she needed help to keep her balance. “I’m sorry about this.” The cop said, a moment before a jet of smoke hit Bobbi right in the face. She inhaled, coughed once, and then slumped over, unconscious.

\---

When Bobbi woke up, she was alone in an interrogation room, handcuffed to a large metal table. This was awfully hostile for what was supposed to be casual questioning, but there was a chance that someone higher up had decided that she was already guilty, if they had gotten a clear look at her face. She was one of the most wanted people in the country – or at least it felt that way, with the amount of people who had a bounty on her head. Her head, and Hunter’s. Bobbi let out a slow breath, trying not to think too much about Hunter. She couldn’t afford to be emotional.

The door opened, and a man – an unfamiliar one, not the cop who had brought her in – strolled in, taking the seat opposite Bobbi. He looked… nondescript at best. Brown hair, brown eyes, a face and body too soft to belong to a field agent. His suit didn’t fit quite right – the sleeves were too long, and the lapels were crooked. He either didn’t care about his appearance, or didn’t know enough to know he looked like an overgrown child.

(Isolation, Bobbi thought, had made her mean – or meaner.)

“I’m Agent Schuyler,” the man said. His voice was surprisingly warm, and Bobbi blinked at him. He was trying to be good cop, apparently. Because knocking someone out with sleeping gas and cuffing them to a table left a lot of room for playing good cop. “What’s your name?” Schuyler asked, voice still light and pleasant.

Bobbi glared at him. “Hope. Hope Hartley,” she answered. Maybe it was a long shot that someone who was listening in on the conversation would remember Izzy, but at the very least she wasn’t laying down all her cards yet. 

“Hi, Hope.” Schuyler smiled. Okay, the whole ‘nice guy’ routine was firmly in the creepy territory now. Bobbi couldn’t remember the last time someone other than Hunter had been nice to her. Probably the same day she had started running, Bobbi thought, but that meant that the questioning made her more antsy than she would have been if they had been barking orders and screaming questions. “Tell me about yourself,” he requested. Like that was going to happen.

“I’d like to speak to Phil Coulson, please,” Bobbi said as firmly as she could manage. She hadn’t intended to go straight to asking for Coulson, but at the same time, her head was still stuffy from the gas she had been knocked out with and she wasn’t sure she had the patience to play Agent Schuyler’s game. 

The man looked at her with raised eyebrows. “How did you learn that name?” He asked. Right – the world at large still thought of Coulson as a dead man. Bobbi was rusty at interrogation, it seemed. Oh well. She still remembered how to be stubbornly silent. Schuyler asked her a few more questions, none of which she replied to with anything other than quiet. By the end of his questions, he seemed more like a normal person, instead of the slightly freaky, overly-nice persona he had developed. Thank God.

Schuyler glared at her, and Bobbi blinked back serenely. She might be rusty, but she knew she was better than him. If he wanted to keep fighting her, he was eventually going to lose. “I’ll be back,” Schuyler said. Bobbi could hear him mutter something to himself before he ducked out the door, and she sat back in her chair, rubbing her wrist where the handcuffed was locked. It didn’t chafe, but she wanted something to do. 

It wasn’t long at all before the door opened again. Bobbi looked over, half-expecting Schuyler to come in and tell her in his saccharine voice that Phil Coulson was busy, she’d just have to deal with him, but… there he was. 

Coulson’s hair was graying at the temples, and the parentheses around his mouth were deeper than Bobbi remembered, but she figured that was the years talking. She was different, too – her hair was cropped short and she was even leaner than before. She probably had a few worry lines, herself. Time hadn’t been kind to either of them.

Coulson stared at her. Bobbi stared back.

“Schuyler, you’re dismissed.” Bobbi hadn’t even realized that the other agent had entered the room, but he was gone before Bobbi could so much as look at him. The door clicked shut. She was still staring at Coulson.

Fuck, this was a mistake. 

“The cameras are off,” Coulson offered, his voice that odd mixture of curious and serene that only he seemed to be able to pull off. Bobbi nodded slowly, acknowledging the information while still struggling to find the words she wanted to say.

She had planned a speech. She had practiced. She had known how this moment was supposed to go. But the gravity of it was hitting her all at once. Bobbi cleared her throat. “I’m sorry for coming back. I know that it puts you in danger – everyone in danger – but we…” Her voice caught. She hated the way tears were blurring her vision. She couldn’t afford to be emotional. Bobbi blinked away the tears and started again. “We need help. Hunter and I do, I mean. I know we said we were fine when we left, but circumstances have changed, and –”

“Bobbi.” Coulson’s voice was firm, but not unkind as he cut off her slightly breathless rambling. “You’re welcome back. So is Hunter.” Coulson looked around the room, obviously noting the distinct lack of Hunter.

“I don’t know where he is.” Bobbi admitted before he could ask. “We split up – to make it easier for us to be taken in.” Saying it out loud, the plan seemed even stupider than it had when she was actually executing it, which was saying something. Then again, it had achieved its objective (or half of its objective). She was back. 

Coulson nodded. “We’ll find him.” How did he make it seem so easy? Everything wasn’t supposed to be easy. Life had been an uphill battle and now it was just… this? No, something was wrong. There was some sort of catch. “I’ll need to brief the team, get your clearance back, you’ll have to meet Robbie…” He started listing off the things they needed to do, and Bobbi felt… dazed. Like she was walking through a dream. 

“Bobbi?” Coulson asked, and she snapped back to attention. “How about we get out of the interrogation room?” He suggested softly. He was wearing the kid gloves. Bobbi narrowed her eyes at that. She wasn’t broken, just a little distracted. And she had a right to be distracted! This was a Big Life Change, and she had been going through way too many of those lately – all of which she was going to have to explain to the team. Bobbi nodded at Coulson’s question, neck stiff. 

Coulson made to move out of the room. “Sir?” Bobbi asked, holding up her manacled wrists. “I don’t mind dragging this table around, but I’m not sure it’d fit through the door.” She offered a teasing smile, and the tension that had been winding up in Coulson’s shoulders released a little. She was doing better, at acting like Old Bobbi. She just needed to remember the differences between who she had been and who she was, which was difficult, to say the least.

Just be happier. Bobbi thought to herself. Old Bobbi hadn’t been through hell for two years. Old Bobbi had been able to entertain the notion of trusting more than one person at a time. 

She missed Old Bobbi. 

Coulson unlocked the cuff and Bobbi stood almost immediately, stretching her legs. “Lead the way, sir,” she said, and Coulson nodded. He turned out of the interrogation room, and there they were – the Playground. It looked… different. “Remodeling?” She asked him, staring at the walls. They were still brick, but they looked different – fresher and cleaner.

“We had an incident,” Coulson said with a shrug. “I’m sure you’ll hear all about it.” Bobbi’s stomach jumped into her throat. She had been actively avoiding thinking about what it would be like to reunite with the team. They had been under the impression that they would never speak again, that the things they hadn’t said would remain unsaid forever… and here she was, ripping open old wounds after they had had time to heal. 

Coulson was looking at his hand – his robotic one – and tapping on various things that Bobbi couldn’t catch from her vantage point. “I’m calling the team together,” Coulson explained. “Why don’t you get something to eat in the kitchen? You look like you need it.” Bobbi glared at him, but she couldn’t refute the fact that she was hungry. She hadn’t bothered stopping for lunch when she had been strolling around downtown. She hesitated, though – what were the chances that she’d run into someone in the hallways? She assumed that the layout of the Playground was the same, otherwise Coulson would have warned her, but she didn’t know where everyone was coming from, and seeing one of them now? Disastrous. 

“It’ll be fine, Bobbi.” She did not believe him. Coulson gave her a smile, and he looked more tired than Bobbi ever remembered seeing him. The lines on his face were even deeper than they had been earlier. When did Coulson get so old?

Two years, Bobbi reminded herself. Two years changed so much. She smiled back at Coulson, and then turned through the labyrinth of hallways until she made it to the kitchen. Thankfully, she didn’t run into anyone that she knew. But sitting in the kitchen was a Hispanic man in a black leather jacket, eating something that looked like it might have once been a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. Bobbi's stomach lurched uncomfortably.

“You’re Robbie,” Bobbi guessed as she stepped into the room. She folded her arms across her chest. The man wasn’t in the way of her and the refrigerator, but she knew that this was one of Coulson’s schemes. He was more like Fury than people liked to admit, she thought. The man finished chewing his bite of food, and then nodded at Bobbi.

“You’re the reason everyone else got called to a meeting,” he said. His voice held just as much question as hers – that was, not any at all. Neither of them was stupid (or at least, Bobbi didn’t think he was), and coincidences didn’t happen at S.H.I.E.L.D. 

“Yeah,” she said, finally crossing the room now that she knew what was going on – kind of. Apparently ‘meet Robbie’ had been higher up on Coulson’s list of things for her to do than he had led her to believe. “I’m Bobbi,” she offered, opening the door to the fridge and peering inside. She had forgotten how much crap the team liked to eat. She pulled out the eggs and milk before turning back to Robbie, who was still eating his sandwich and staring at her. “You want eggs?” Bobbi asked. He was eating the sandwich, but it didn’t look all that great, and if there was one thing she knew, it was that making people food made them like you more.

“Sure,” Robbie replied. Bobbi got to work, whisking the eggs together with a fork and adding in a splash of milk, waiting for him to say something more. 

The eggs were already half-cooked when Robbie talked again. “Daisy told me about you once. Didn’t say much,” he said quietly. “I kinda thought you and the Hunter guy were dead.” A sob and chuckle both tried to force themselves out of her throat at the same time, and eventually the laugh won. 

“Nice to know they care so much,” Bobbi said after she had finished choking on her laughter. “Daisy brought you in?” She guessed, since she had been the one, of all the team, that he had mentioned. Robbie was quiet for a second, and Bobbi figured it was because he forgot that she had her back to him. When she turned over her shoulder, he was bobbing his head. The sandwich was gone.

“I’m not Inhuman,” Robbie said. Bobbi hadn’t planned to ask – that just seemed rude – but it was nice to know. She was not a fan of being in a life-or-death situation and having new information thrown on her at the last minute, which was naturally why it happened all the time. 

Robbie was quiet again, and Bobbi was too. Were they supposed to be bonding? The eggs finished cooking, and Bobbi plated them. She handed one plate to Robbie, along with a fork. He was still sitting at the table, and Bobbi debated the merits of sitting with him as opposed to just standing before deciding the latter was the better option.

Their forks scraped against the plates as they ate the scrambled eggs, and Bobbi wondered how something so simple could be so weird. She still felt like this was a dream. She glanced at the clock on the kitchen wall, wondering how long it would be before the team was out of the meeting. Bobbi. couldn’t stand still any longer, though. “I’m going to go to the gym, if anyone needs me,” she told Robbie, sliding her dishes into the sink. She’d come back for them later.

“You can’t do that,” Robbie said, standing up from his place at the table and stretching. There wasn’t a threat in his voice, but Bobbi narrowed her eyes anyways. She hadn’t gotten the impression that she was a prisoner, but Robbie’s statement definitely gave her that vibe. She waited for him to say something more, about how the gym hadn’t been finished in the renovations or something, but he kept quiet, just like he always did. 

Bobbi slowly began walking towards the exit of the kitchen, and Robbie followed her. She reached for the door, and Robbie reached for her shoulder. Bobbi batted his hand away before he could touch her, narrowing her eyes. “You can’t leave,” Robbie repeated, strangely calm. “You don’t have clearance yet.” 

Bobbi snorted incredulously. “Clearance, my ass.” She was already in the top-secret facility, and had been released from custody by the director himself. Was that not good enough? Considering Coulson was obviously the person who had ordered Robbie to be in the kitchen, evidently not. Bobbi took a deep breath, intending to keep her cool, when the door opened from the other side, nearly colliding with both her and Robbie.

Coulson stepped through, alone, and a mixture of relief and confusion rushed through Bobbi, ice cold. “You ate,” he said, noting the dishes in the sink.

“I did,” Bobbi answered, voice chilly. “Is there a reason you’re keeping me captive here, sir?” She asked, grinding out the last word.

“Just a precaution,” Coulson answered, unperturbed. “Did you realize one of the groups that had a bounty on your head was a proxy of the United States government?” He asked calmly.

“Stopped keeping track of who wanted me dead, to be honest,” Bobbi replied. She glanced over at where Robbie had been, only to see that he had disappeared through the door when Coulson appeared. 

“I didn’t want you to be apprehended by any of our agents,” Coulson explained. Bobbi looked at him, still suspicious, but nodded, accepting what the director had said. There was a long, awkward silence while they surveyed each other once again. “Don’t you trust me, Bobbi?” Coulson asked, tilting his head slightly to the side.

“No, sir,” she answered, ever honest. 

Coulson chuckled. “Guess that’s to be expected.” He opened the pocket of his suit and handed her a lanyard. Bobbi Morse, Level 7 clearance. Like the past two years had been erased – like she had never left. She was still suspicious of how easy it had all been, but like Coulson said, maybe that was to be expected. 

“Tomorrow you can see everyone,” he explained. “But I thought this might be a little… much.” Bobbi blinked at him. She had thought she was doing a good job of being Old Bobbi. Either she was slipping, or Coulson was getting more perceptive. Or he just knew how he’d feel in this situation. Bobbi thought to herself. It wasn’t wrong to be overwhelmed.

She wished Hunter was there.

“Can I go to the gym now?” Bobbi asked. 

Coulson nodded. “I’ll clear the area,” he responded. That hadn’t been what Bobbi had wanted, but Coulson seemed determined to put her in some sort of isolation, and Bobbi didn’t feel like fighting him on it.

It just meant tomorrow was going to be interesting.


	2. but i'm far more desperate than you think

Bobbi woke up to the sound of an unfamiliar alarm clock, which was the norm for her. She didn’t need to look around the room before remembering where she was; she wasn’t sure she could forget coming back to S.H.I.E.L.D. even if she slept for a hundred years. Judging by the kinks in her neck, the guess wasn’t far off.

She got out of bed and immediately started stretching, unused to the softness of the bunks at the base. Apparently despite the near-destruction of the Playground, her and Hunter’s personal effects hadn’t been damaged, so there was a duffel at the foot of the bed with her clothes. Or Old Bobbi’s clothes. Bobbi winced a little, unsure if she was taking the split between her past self and her current self a bit too seriously. It wasn’t like her fashion choices had changed since she had finished high school and started at the Academy.

After pulling on a tee and jeans, Bobbi looked at herself in the mirror, and tried not to sigh. Even though she had gotten a good night’s sleep, she looked like death warmed over. Maybe it was even _because_ of her good night’s sleep; her body finally had given up on being unflinchingly strong.

She made herself look as presentable as possible before returning to the kitchen. It was empty. Being in a crowded base and not having anyone around was just _weird_ , and Bobbi wondered if Coulson had put some sort of tracker on her so that he could tell the rest of the team where to avoid. Sure, she had appreciated not being overwhelmed, but she didn’t want or need people to walk on egg shells around her anymore.

Bobbi busied herself with making breakfast – eggs again, since the fridge had not magically restocked itself and she wasn’t going to take a chance with the rest of the food. She wished that she had music or something to fill the silence, but her burner phone had been taken from her when she had been taken into S.H.I.E.L.D. custody, and it didn’t have the capability to play music, anyways. She was going through the motions of cooking her breakfast when a hand, large and warm, planted itself on her shoulder.

Bobbi didn’t think – she just did. She kicked out her leg to hit the ankles of the person behind her, and pivoted her body do she could shove them in the chest, pinning them on the ground with her knee in the center of their sternum. Bobbi’s hand was on the throat of her would-be assailant when she finally processed who it was. She jerked her hand back as if it was on fire. “Christ, Barbara,” Mack groaned, staring up at her. “Not the greeting I expected.”

Bobbi had the decency to blush as she stood up, offering Mack her hand so he, too, could get off the floor. “Sorry,” she huffed out as she pulled him to his feet. “It’s been –”

“Hey, it’s okay,” Mack cut her off before she could decide what adjective she was going to use to describe the past two years. He gave her an easygoing smile and opened his arms to hug her. Bobbi eyed him for a moment before accepting the hug, squeezing Mack softly before retreating back into her own personal bubble. It was still weird to be around people, much less people who wanted to hug her.

Bobbi turned back to the eggs on the stove, frowning. They were overcooked now, which meant no breakfast for her – she wasn’t in the mood to start over, even less so now that she had company. While she’d like to believe that Mack was just there to visit, she didn’t think that was the case.

“Coulson said you were back but didn’t say why,” Mack commented, leaning against the counter as Bobbi scraped the overcooked eggs into the trashcan.

“Didn’t tell him why,” Bobbi responded, avoiding his gaze.

“D’you plan to?” He asked.

Bobbi nodded, slowly. “It’s complicated,” she answered. “Like… really complicated.” More complicated than she even knew what to do with. She let out a sigh and laid the pan she had used in the sink. Her dishes from the night before were still there, and Bobbi turned on the water so she could begin cleaning her mess. “When we find Lance, I’ll explain everything.” That had always been the plan; both get back to the base and then tell everyone what the hell had happened.

“Sure it is,” Mack agreed easily. “Well, if you ever need to talk…”

“You’re there. Yup,” Bobbi finished hurriedly, scrubbing the dishes a little more aggressively than necessary.

“You sure everything’s okay, Bobbi?” Mack asked. “You’re acting kind of funny.”

“Just trying to get used to people,” she answered, voice tight. Bobbi hadn’t anticipated that anyone would remark on her skittishness, mostly because she had thought she would be better at hiding it. Mack nodded. She moved to put the dishes back in the cupboard, having dried them with a spare towel.

“Well, I’ll leave you be, I guess,” Mack said. Bobbi blinked at him. She had expected him to hover a little longer – he was good at hovering, even if he wasn’t always good at talking. She was the same way. “Coulson told me to tell you that you need to get checked in the med bay before he can clear you for field work,” he added as an afterthought.

There it was – the motive. Bobbi had wanted to believe that Mack had really just wanted to say hello again, but it seemed that he was just a messenger. And maybe a babysitter, though that was probably more of the paranoia speaking. “I’ll go do that now, then,” she said, forcing another smile.

“What about breakfast?” Mack asked. So, he _had_ noticed what had happened to her eggs.

“Not hungry anymore.” Bobbi hoped her stomach wouldn’t growl and give her away. “Besides, it’s only three hours until lunch anyways.” She had gone without eating for much longer than that before.

“Don’t be a stranger, Barbara,” Mack said as she walked out of the kitchen. Bobbi nodded before taking her leave, sighing a little when she was alone in the hallway. If every conversation was going to feel as awkward as that one had, she wasn’t sure she was going to survive the day.

\---

Naturally Simmons was the doctor on duty when Bobbi arrived for her physical exam. The younger woman beamed as she saw Bobbi walking through the door, and Bobbi managed another fake smile. She wondered how long it would be until she could smile for real.

“Agent Morse! So good to have you back!” Jemma seemed to be considering going in for a hug, as well, but eventually decided against it. Instead she just stood there, smiling and bouncing on the balls of her feet.

“Bobbi, Jemma,” the blonde corrected softly. That was what Old Bobbi would have done, and there was still no reason whatsoever for Jemma to continue calling her by her surname. “It’s good to be back.” And it was.

“If you’re here for a physical, we can go back into one of the rooms,” Jemma said, gesturing towards a hallway of closed doors. Bobbi had never liked how open the medical bay had been before the redesign (kind of defeated the point of patient privacy), but it was still weird to see physical proof that time had passed, and that she hadn’t been there.

Jemma led them into the room, and it looked surprisingly like a normal doctor’s office, with the weird paper-covered bed and all. Bobbi sat on top of it gingerly as Jemma took her seat in a swivel chair. “Am I right in assuming you haven’t had any medical care for quite some time?” She asked, pulling out a tablet and a stylus. Bobbi nodded. She wasn’t big on doctors to begin with and trying to avoid leaving a paper trail made checkups out of the question. Most of the time she and Lance could get by with their combined first aid knowledge, and there hadn’t been any emergency they had deemed worthy of maybe getting arrested.

“Let’s start with general lifestyle habits, then,” Jemma said. Bobbi watched as she pulled up a new document on her tablet. “Sleep and diet habits?” Jemma asked, glancing up at Bobbi, stylus poised in her hand.

“Five or six hours of sleep a night. I get two meals most days. Three about half the time.” Bobbi shrugged. She knew it wasn’t the best-case scenario and she’d probably get one of Jemma’s health and wellness speeches, but she wasn’t sure that she could be held accountable when most of the time she didn’t sleep or eat because she couldn’t.

As expected, Jemma made a soft admonishing noise before continuing. “Sexual activity? And has your menstruation been regular?”

“One partner, we use condoms, both been tested for STDs.” It had been a long while since Bobbi had last been tested, but since she and Hunter were using condoms and didn’t have sex with anyone else anyways, it wasn’t that big of a deal. Unless Jemma was going to tell Bobbi she had chlamydia or something, which would be a downer (but also kind of amazing, since she hadn’t done an examination). “Periods haven’t been regular for a while. Last one was… February, maybe?” She half-asked, shrugging.

Jemma nodded. “That’s to be expected with the conditions you were living under. Stress and poor nutrition can lead to cessation of menses.” Bobbi knew that already thanks to her bio background but nodded back anyways.

“Drugs, smoking, alcohol?” Jemma asked, moving on to a new window in her tablet.

“None of any,” Bobbi answered crisply. Jemma raised an eyebrow at that. “Hunter wanted to stop drinking. He didn’t want to do it alone.” She answered the unasked question. Bobbi, for her part, was proud of him; she hadn’t ever thought that Lance would admit he was an alcoholic, albeit a high-functioning one. As for the other things, she had never done hard drugs, and smoking wasn’t an option when you only had a lung and a half. Plus, all that shit was expensive.

“Alright,” Jemma said, setting the tablet down on the counter behind her. “There’s a mental health questionnaire you need to fill out, but I need to take some vital measurements, and there will be a blood draw.”

“Blood draw?” Bobbi repeated numbly, feeling her face go white. “Simmons, I can’t do needles. Not today.” She could feel herself vibrating with the anticipation of being stuck and tried not to look at the pitying expression on the doctor’s face. “Please don’t make me,” Bobbi all but begged.

“We can postpone the blood draw, then,” Jemma responded, her voice a shade too cheery to be real. “But the vitals have to happen now,” she said firmly. Bobbi nodded at that. She wasn’t concerned about a stethoscope or blood pressure cuff. Just the needles.

Jemma spent the next fifteen minutes measuring Bobbi’s blood pressure – which was solidly in the normal range – as well as her heart rate and breathing. Her heart rate was fine, but of course her breathing was a little abnormal due to her lung injury. There was a slew of tests for her muscles and joints, proving that she had full range of motion.

“Does your knee still bother you?” Jemma asked when they reached that point of the exam.

Bobbi shrugged. “Most of the time it’s fine. We were in a snowstorm in Montana one time and it hurt like a motherfucker, but that’s the only time it really bothered me.” The mixture of the cold and the wet had done in her poor knee, but as soon as the storm had passed, everything was back to normal again. Bobbi didn’t think she’d be sent on many missions to the Arctic Circle, and her knee had never been an issue for her status as an agent before, except for when she was still in rehab.

Jemma nodded and carried on with the rest of the physical exam. At the end of it, Jemma smiled. “I can’t see any physical reason why you wouldn’t be able to return to the field, Agent Morse,” she said brightly. “We still would like to get that blood draw, but that’s more to catch anything the doctor might have missed, and we both know I rarely miss anything of import.” Bobbi chuckled at that. It was amazing how Simmons could be so cocky but also so matter-of-fact. “However, there’s still the mental health questionnaire to fill out.” Jemma picked up the tablet again and handed it and the stylus to Bobbi.

“Answer truthfully, and if there’s anything concerning, it’ll be flagged, and you’ll get a more comprehensive review,” Jemma said with a smile.

Bobbi accepted the tablet and began reading the questions. It was the standard mental health questionnaire, but Bobbi felt as if it was a little inappropriate for her situation. How could someone who was on the run _not_ feel a little tense or stressed? She followed Jemma’s instructions, though, knowing she’d be in much more trouble if she was found out to have been lying.

When she was finished, Bobbi handed the tablet back to Jemma, who smiled again. “That’s the end of your physical, then,” she announced. “I sent the director a memo explaining the lack of blood draw, so that shouldn’t be held against you.” Bobbi relaxed a little at that, hoping that Coulson wouldn’t ask any questions about her continued fear of needles.

Bobbi got up to leave and return to the solitude of her room when Jemma stopped her. “Coulson requested that you meet with May to discuss Hunter,” she said quietly. Bobbi was beginning to feel like she was on some sort of scavenger hunt where she had to meet each of the team one by one before they’d let her see everyone together. It was probably one of Coulson’s ‘don’t overwhelm Bobbi’ stunts, but it was still weird. “She’s in the control room.” Bobbi nodded, and Jemma moved out of the way so that Bobbi wouldn’t be late to the meeting she hadn’t realized was scheduled.

\---

As it turned out, May wasn’t in the control room – she was in the gym. It had been Bobbi’s second guess after the place where they were supposed to meet had been empty, so she wasn’t too bothered… just questioning whether the runaround had been intentional.

May was attacking a punching bag with even more fervor than usual, and Bobbi watched silently from the wall as the older woman pounded the bag with her fists. She stood for a long time, not wanting to turn May’s ire towards herself accidentally. May had never liked Hunter, and chances were if Coulson had put her in charge of finding him, she wasn’t pleased.

After about ten minutes, May finished with her workout, and finally noticed Bobbi at the wall. “Morse. With me,” she said, and Bobbi breathed a sigh of relief. Finally, someone who was acting _normal_. Bobbi fell into step behind May as the older agent began twisting through the corridors, still shining with sweat from her workout. Bobbi didn’t have a clue where they were going, but she would learn when they got there.

Their destination was a storage room, which Bobbi thought was weird, but also very May-esque. She didn’t seem to like making plans where anyone was able to hear them.

“Jemma said you wanted to know more about Hunter?” Bobbi asked. May was busy fiddling with the doorknob, and a small ball of uneasiness began to form in the pit of Bobbi’s stomach. She had gotten over her fear of May after the whole debacle with Agent 33, but this situation, and May’s reticence to answer even the basic question was not helping her frayed nerves.

May turned back, and then gave Bobbi a sharp nod. “We need as much information about him as you can give.” She said.

“About…?” Bobbi prompted. ‘Everything you know’ was a little broad, especially given the nature of Bobbi’s relationship with Lance. She doubted that May wanted to hear Bobbi’s extensive repertoire of things Hunter liked in the bedroom, or how he took his tea or the way his smile looked in the morning. Bobbi went through the familiar motions of shoving Lance’s stupid, dopey, _beautiful_ face out of her mind so that she could focus.

“Where he’s been. Where he might have gone. People he might be contacting,” May said. Nothing about this conversation explained why they needed to be in a storage room to have it, and Bobbi wished for her batons. Not only because she could sue them if May did decide to attack her, but also because she always had a clearer head when she twirled them.

Bobbi thought for a long moment, leaning back against one of the storage room walls. She knew the answers to May’s questions, of course, but she was trying to judge how much was safe to give away – especially since May wasn’t giving her anything in return. “I’m the only one he’d try to contact,” she said slowly. “He has a brother and sister in England, but they haven’t spoken for years.” Bobbi hadn’t even met Laurel and Lee, just knew that they existed. “We last saw each other in Georgia. A little south of Atlanta.” She looked down at her feet, away from May. “That was a month and a half ago.”

“And what about you?” May asked. Bobbi’s head whipped up so she could glare at May, who had gotten much, much closer to her. Close enough that Bobbi could see the expression in May’s eyes clearly. She was _angry_ , and she also looked… scared? Bobbi stood up straight, reminding both herself and May that she was much, much taller than the other woman. Not that height meant anything in a fight, but Bobbi wasn’t going to be intimidated by Melinda May. Everyone else in the world could be, but Bobbi refused.

“I’m not sure what you’re asking,” Bobbi said softly.

“I’m asking if you’re really Bobbi Morse,” May responded, voice low.

Wait, what the fuck?

May had a gun out and pointed at her by the time Bobbi’s shock wore off. “Who else would I be?” She asked, not sure she understood. She knew she wasn’t quite herself, but was it really so bad that they were ready to shoot her? Bobbi knew the gun that May was holding, and it wasn’t an ICER.

“A Life Model Decoy.” A second body appeared from around the corner of one of the shelves in the storage room. Coulson was holding a gun, too, also levelled at her.

“I don’t know what that means,” Bobbi said. Her hands had gone up, an instinctive gesture to show she was unarmed and definitely not worthy of being shot.

“It means that you believe you’re Bobbi Morse, and you have all of Bobbi’s memories, but you’re not her. You’re a robot that’s here on a different mission that you might not even know.” Jemma materialized from behind another shelf, and Bobbi looked at her, a little hurt. Jemma had just seen her – just heard her heartbeat and her lungs in her chest. How could she believe that Bobbi was a robot?

“And that you have programming to keep yourself from doing something to blow your cover accidentally,” Fitz added, also stepping out of the shadows. How had she not noticed that there were so many people in this damn room? She had been so obsessed with May and the lock that she hadn’t thought to check the rest of the room. Now it was four against one – and all of them had guns.

“Like letting my blood be drawn.” Bobbi said slowly, finally fitting the pieces of the puzzle together. Coulson nodded. Naturally her one real fear happened to fit their hypothesis, and what she had thought would make Jemma believe she was human actually had the opposite effect. At least they were telling her what was happening instead of just pointing guns and assuming. The thing was, since Bobbi knew shit about Life Model Decoys, she had no idea what she could say to make them believe she wasn’t one. Generally, insisting you were innocent just made you seem guiltier, so Bobbi kept her mouth shut and waited for more information.

“You didn’t eat. Or tell us why you came back after years of being away.” Of all of her former teammates pointing guns at her, it hurt Bobbi the most that Mack believed the story of her being a robot with a secret agenda. Even when she had had a secret agenda (a time in her life she still wasn’t entirely proud of in hindsight), Mack had been on her side. They were always on the same side – except for now, apparently.

“Bobbi, we want to believe that you’re you,” Coulson said. “But you have to admit this situation is suspicious. Give us something to work with.” Bobbi thought that the situation was only suspicious to people with severe paranoia issues, but that was a shared characteristic of all of Coulson’s team, so she wasn’t that surprised they thought they were being thorough instead of creepy.

Bobbi looked around the semicircle of people gathered around her, guns drawn – Fitz and Simmons, Coulson and May, Mack. Even though the situation felt a little surreal, she knew the stakes were very real; they wouldn’t hesitate to put a bullet through her if they thought it would be for the greater good. Bobbi’s throat was dry, and she wasn’t sure she trusted herself to speak. She had to, though. It was literally do or die.

“I’m pregnant.”


	3. i wonder what it's like to be the universe

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's like three words of Spanish in this chapter; hover for translations.

Bobbi was back in the medical bay for the second time that day, on the same paper-covered examination table from her physical exam. The guns had been put away, but Mack and May flanked her as they walked through the hallways, and May at least seemed twitchy enough that if Bobbi had so much as coughed she would have ended up with a new scar.

Simmons had ordered her to wait in the room while she located one of the ultrasound machines. Neither of her escorts were allowed inside – doctor-patient confidentiality and all of that – but Bobbi could hear Mack’s voice outside the room. He sounded like he was arguing with someone, maybe May. Bobbi couldn’t bring herself to bother pondering what he was arguing about. Well, it seemed obvious he was arguing about her – it was more like she didn’t want to consider whether he was arguing for her innocence or against it.

The door swung open and Bobbi snapped to attention. Jemma shut the door firmly and clicked the lock into place before rolling the ultrasound machine closer to the side of the examination bed.

“Have you had any prenatal care?” Simmons asked delicately, once again burying her nose in the tablet. If Bobbi had to guess, it was because the young doctor didn’t want the older agent to see the guilt in her eyes. Bobbi didn’t want Jemma’s pity, or anyone else’s, and she huffed a breath out of her nose.

“None. I took a couple of the at-home pregnancy tests when I thought I might be. Both were positive.” Bobbi had been tempted to try about eight more, but Hunter had convinced her that all the extra tests would be were potential discoveries for the people tailing them, and _that_ would have been nothing short of an absolute disaster.

“Is there a reason you didn’t mention this at our earlier appointment?” Jemma asked, voice still unnaturally soft. Bobbi had to strain to hear her.

“Well, I didn’t know that there were suspicions that I was a robot.” Bobbi began bitterly. “And I was waiting for Lance.” She paused. “If you’re going to ask if he’s the father, don’t.” That would be the last straw, and Bobbi would rather not have to punch anyone that day.

“I assumed.” The doctor murmured in response. “You said your last period was in February?” She prompted.

“February eleventh.” Bobbi nodded. It was true that her periods were very rarely regular for the same reasons that Jemma had cited earlier – stress and poor nutrition – but she tried to make sense of her monthly cycle anyways. It was lucky that she had, Bobbi thought, because when she had started feeling unnaturally tired she had suspected something was off and taken the tests sooner rather than later. It had given her and Lance time to hatch the plan to return to S.H.I.E.L.D. before any of their adversaries could suspect something was off. If the various agencies with prices on her head had learned that she was going to have a child… Bobbi shuddered.  

“That would put you at about eleven weeks, so you should be able to have an ultrasound externally instead of transvaginally.” Jemma said. Bobbi was glad of that; she didn’t know much about prenatal care, but she did know that ‘transvaginal ultrasound’ didn’t sound like a fun experience.

“I don’t want to see it.” Bobbi whispered, startling even herself.

Jemma blinked. “Pardon?”

Bobbi had a feeling that Jemma had heard what was said, but she repeated herself louder nonetheless. “I don’t want to see the baby or hear the heartbeat or anything.” Bobbi congratulated herself for how firm her voice sounded, because she was not nearly as sure as she was making herself out to be.

“If you don’t want to carry the pregnancy to term…” Jemma began nervously.

Bobbi shook her head. “I want the baby.” She said. “But Lance deserves to be here.” Bobbi didn’t trust herself not to burst into tears when she saw her baby for the first time, and she definitely didn’t want to be sobbing when it was just her and Simmons in the room. Jemma already seemed distressed enough about the whole situation, and Bobbi crying would just be the cherry on top.

“Alrighty then. I just need you to lie down, and the gel will be a little cold…” Bobbi stared at the ceiling the entire time Simmons was performing the ultrasound, and the moment the doctor was done, she sat back up, pulling her shirt down to cover her stomach. She knew the door was locked, but Bobbi still had a fear that someone would come barging in and catch her at her most vulnerable.

Gentle fingertips brushed against her arm and Bobbi flinched away. Simmons withdrew her hand quickly, obviously realizing Bobbi didn’t want to be touched more than was medically necessary. “The baby is measuring eleven weeks, so your date of conception is probably accurate. That would mean your due date is near the beginning of December. I can calculate it and give it to you at dinner.” The doctor informed her patient. “I can also give you some prenatal vitamins to take.” Jemma hesitated a moment. “Bobbi, I’m really sorry. If I hadn’t been so careless, I might have caught it earlier, and then none of this would have happened…” The doctor began wringing her hands worriedly.

Bobbi sighed. She wasn’t _angry_ about any of this. Just… put out. And frustrated. And maybe a little sad, too. “It’s fine, Jemma. I’m not sure I would have told you the truth if you asked.” She closed her eyes. “I could’ve done without the guns, but you had to protect your people, and I had to protect mine.”

“They’re the same people, Bobbi.” Jemma said earnestly. “Your people are our people.” Bobbi opened her eyes and looked over to give Jemma a withering look. Saying their people were the same was just factually false, which was why Bobbi was surprised Jemma had said it at all.

“Well, we’re done here.” The doctor said, standing up. “Daisy is coming back from her mission in time for dinner tonight. I’m sure she’ll be happy to see you.” Jemma offered a tentative smile.

“Not hungry.” Bobbi said, standing up as well. Lunch had come and gone in the whirlwind that was getting held at gunpoint and waiting for her ultrasound. Truth be told, Bobbi _was_ hungry – starving, even – after skipping two meals, but she was not ready or willing to sit down to a dinner with the team.

“If you’re having food aversions, or nausea or anything, I’m sure we can accommodate you.” Jemma looked at Bobbi intently. “I didn’t think I had to impress upon you the importance of proper nutrition during pregnancy, but it is extremely important that you eat, especially since your body has depleted fat stores due to your time on the run.”

“I’m just not hungry, Jemma.” Bobbi lied. “I’ll eat when I am, okay?” Bobbi felt a bit like a child throwing a tantrum, refusing to eat dinner because they were upset with their parents. Honestly, though, she didn’t care. She liked to think that she had a little more reason to be upset than the average tantruming toddler. “I’ll be in my bunk if anyone needs me.” She whispered.

Bobbi didn’t wait to see if Jemma was going to respond before unlocking the door and walking out of the exam room. Jemma must have somehow communicated to the team that her story was the truth because neither Mack nor May followed her.

The moment she was safe in her room with the door locked behind her, Bobbi let out a long, forlorn sigh. She scrubbed her hands over her face, once again lamenting the fact that she had let Lance plan something. Bobbi flopped onto the bed, burying her head in her arms. She had intended just to take a minute to process everything that had happened, but before she could so much as realize she was drowsy, Bobbi was fast asleep.

\---

A knock on the door woke Bobbi up. She sat up, blinking at the brightness of the lights that she hadn’t shut off. A quick glance at the clock told her that it was dinner time, which meant that the person at the door was probably Jemma, trying to force her to eat something. Bobbi considered opening the door, but eventually just rolled over. She wasn’t in the mood to have the scientist fussing over her any more than she already had – or worse, get another lecture about who their people were the same people or something.

The knock sounded again, more insistent, and Bobbi let out a sigh. Apparently ignoring the knocks wasn’t going to work out for her. Bobbi stood up a little too fast, and almost had to sit back down because of the dizziness that hit her. Another loud knock on the door made her huff. She crossed over to the door and swung it open, preparing for a lecture from Jemma.

It was not Jemma.

Daisy looked up at her with large, earnest brown eyes, and Bobbi sighed. No one was good at saying no to those eyes, and she was definitely susceptible to Daisy’s charms. “I brought you dinner.” The younger woman said, gesturing to the tray of food she was carrying in her other hand. “But,” Daisy drew the word out impossibly long, “I was kind of hoping I could stay and eat with you? Everyone’s being really quiet and it’s really awkward and no one’s telling me anything. Jemma just asked me to give you this and everyone else like, literally _flinched_ when they heard your name. It was weird, Bobbi. Really weird.” Daisy finished with her tirade and then looked at Bobbi with those damn eyes again.

“Come in.” Bobbi said, stepping back into the room and gesturing Daisy in as well. The pair sat on the bed, and Bobbi accepted the tray of food that Daisy had been holding.

“So first thing’s first. You’re back!” Daisy squealed and wrapped her arms around Bobbi in a tight hug that she couldn’t reciprocate, since her arms were pinned to her sides. “So why is everyone being weird about it? I know Hunter’s not here, but I thought that would make them happy.” Daisy grimaced. “I mean, not that I don’t like Hunter, but, you know, you’re the better half of that package deal.”

Bobbi nudged at the lasagna on the plate with the fork that Daisy had provided. “There was an incident earlier today.” She said, speaking slowly so she had the time to find the right words. “Apparently the powers that be believed that I was a Life Model Decoy. Still not entirely sure what that means, but…” She shrugged. “There were guns drawn. It was not pleasant.”

Daisy gaped. “But we have the thing – it’s something Fitz built, it alerts you when there’s an LMD. They could have just put you through that.”

“I didn’t know that existed.” Bobbi answered, poking at the lasagna again. “Dunno why they didn’t do it, though.” She wished that someone else on the team would have thought of the machine, because then she wouldn’t have had to humiliate herself by announcing her pregnancy in front of everyone. There was garlic bread on the plate, too, and Bobbi decided that would probably be easier to eat while talking to Daisy. She took a bite and chewed as Daisy narrowed her eyes at Bobbi, as if trying to figure something out.

“So what did they do, then?” Daisy prompted. Bobbi swallowed.

“I provided them with incontrovertible proof I was human.” Bobbi answered, taking another anxious bite of garlic bread.

“What, did you like, let them cut you open or something?” Daisy began looking at Bobbi’s exposed arms to see if she could find a bandage. Bobbi shook her head.

“That’s what’s making them act so awkward.” She said quietly, setting the garlic bread down on the tray again. “Daisy, I’m pregnant.”

Dead silence.

Bobbi could feel Daisy’s eyes burning holes into the side of her face, but she kept staring at the food in front of her. “I assume that Mack, at least, is having some sort of crisis about being ready and willing to shoot a pregnant woman. Jemma feels bad because she gave me a physical and didn’t ask if it was a possibility. You know how Coulson gets after he makes a bad call.” That still left Fitz and May, but Bobbi was sure they had regrets of their own.

Still, silence.

Bobbi took another bite of garlic bread, and another, and another. She was done with the bread and halfway through the lasagna when Daisy finally spoke. “Sorry, I – that’s just big, Bobbi.”

The blonde nodded. “Yeah. It is.” She whispered.

There was another long pause in which Bobbi finished the lasagna. “I’m sorry. This must be scary.” Daisy said. Bobbi blinked at that. She had had a _lot_ of feelings over the last twenty-four hours, and most of them weren’t the warm and fuzzy kind. But she hadn’t ever considered that she might have been afraid.

But she had been afraid. She had been afraid that someone was going to find out, and afraid that her baby was going to be hurt, and afraid that Lance was never going to find his way back to S.H.I.E.L.D. She had buried it under every other conceivable emotion, because above all else, Bobbi was afraid of her own fear. She hated being afraid, because it made her weak.

“Hey, it’s okay.” Daisy said softly. Bobbi realized her cheeks were wet, and she swiped away the tears with one fluid motion. “I’m sorry that they did that. Everyone’s been a little paranoid since the situation with the LMDs and the Framework. I can tell you about that later.” Daisy took the tray off of Bobbi’s lap and set it on the floor. Bobbi wiped her cheeks again, but the tears were coming faster now, and her nose was beginning to run.

Daisy grabbed Bobbi’s wrists gently when she went to wipe her face again. When had Daisy gotten so… mother-hen? Bobbi knew that May had her moments, but that was always when Daisy or Coulson were hurt. If Bobbi’s suspicions were correct, then May had been the one to suggest Bobbi being an LMD in the first place, and even if she regretted what had happened as a result of her suggestion, May was not going to come and coddle her.

Bobbi didn’t _need_ to be coddled, but Daisy was insistent. The quiet tears turned into full-on sobs, and Bobbi’s chest heaved with the force of her own crying. Daisy released her grip on Bobbi’s wrists, one hand rubbing gentle circles on Bobbi’s back while the other held Bobbi’s. Daisy’s hands were soft, and that made Bobbi cry harder.

“All I wanted was for my baby to be safe.” Bobbi said in between gasping cries. She wanted to stop, she wanted to have her normal iron grip on her emotions… but she couldn’t. Stupid hormones.

Daisy squeezed her hand gently. “You did the right thing, Bobbi. You’re safe here. I’ll keep you safe.” She kept murmuring soft words of comfort, and for some reason, Bobbi believed them. Probably because Daisy promised that _she_ would keep Bobbi safe, instead of the dreaded _we_. A soft voice in the back of Bobbi’s head pointed out that this could all be a ploy by Coulson to try to gain her trust, but Bobbi was too exhausted to consider the possibility of everyone being against her. She already had enough problems on her plate.

Bobbi cried for what must have been half an hour, comforted by Daisy the whole while. When the last of the tears dried, her head felt like it was stuffed with cotton and her face felt puffy. Her chest, on the other hand, felt substantially lighter.

She went to the bathroom to wash her face and felt entirely more human with her cheeks clean and the swelling calmed. “Do you think there’s more food?” Bobbi asked. Her voice sounded small to her own ears.

“Probably, yeah. We’re not great at portions, you know that.” Daisy said, smiling encouragingly. “Do you want me to go get more for you?” She asked.

“No, I’ll… I’ll go.” Bobbi replied. Crying had been cathartic enough that she thought she could handle if there was anyone still left in the kitchen. Even if she hadn’t been feeling better, beginning to eat reminded her of all of the meals that she had skipped – not just that day, but earlier in the week, too. What Jemma had said was true; she needed to eat. She had been running on fumes for too long.

“Allow me to escort you, then, Ms. Morse.” Daisy said, picking up the tray and extending her arm as if they were in some sort of regency-era film.

“Mrs. Hunter, technically.” Bobbi corrected, smiling wryly at Daisy as they left the room. She hadn’t actually changed her name in the interest of minimizing her paper trail (getting a marriage license had been risk enough), but calling herself Mrs. Hunter made Lance laugh, and Bobbi needed a happy memory to hold on to.

The younger woman laughed. “Why does that not surprise me?” She asked.

“Probably because you’re not stupid.” Bobbi smirked. “I mean, we were already heading down that path, and then being on the run…” She shrugged. She and Hunter had only had each other, and between her no longer keeping secrets from him and him getting sober, there was no real reason why they couldn’t be together long-term.

“So, did the baby come before or after the wedding bells?” Daisy teased. Bobbi swatted playfully at her.

“After, you little shit.” Bobbi laughed, and then stopped in her tracks.

“Everything okay?” Daisy asked. Bobbi nodded. She had just been startled by the sound of her own laughter – real laughter, not faked and not mixed with tears. She began moving again, and Daisy followed, not pressing the subject whatsoever. Bobbi was grateful. Now that she understood why Mack and Jemma had been acting so strangely before, she was a little more willing to forgive them, but it was also nice to have someone treat her like _her_. The real trick in pretending to be Old Bobbi was to have people treat her like Old Bobbi – and then maybe she’d become her old self instead of putting on the mask.

They made it to the kitchen, which was blessedly empty. Daisy swung open the door to the freezer and frowned. “Looks like we’re out of luck, Bobbi.” She said, voice extremely serious. “There’s no more lasagna. There is, however, ice cream.” Daisy turned back to Bobbi, holding the pint of the ice cream with a devilish smile on her face. “It would be a shame if we let you go hungry, so I’m afraid the ice cream is our only choice.” Daisy said, managing to wrestle her face back into something faux-serious for her final proclamation.

“I guess it is.” Bobbi agreed, laughing again. God, that felt good. She could get used to laughter.

“Phish Food, or Peanut Butter Cup?” Daisy asked, withdrawing a second pint of ice cream.

Bobbi wrinkled her nose. “I didn’t think I was weird about food, but you just said peanut butter and I wanted to die.” Bobbi was normally ambivalent about peanut butter – she wasn’t one of those people that would eat it by the spoonful, but she enjoyed a Reese’s cup as much as the next girl. Except for today, apparently.

“Baby wants what baby wants.” Daisy responded easily, putting the second pint back in the freezer. Bobbi shivered a little bit. “What’s up?” Daisy asked, clearly noticing the shudder.

“Just… weird to think about.” Bobbi said, not entirely sure why she had moved the way she did at Daisy’s innocent statement. “Until six hours ago, no one else knew, and now everyone knows…” She shrugged.

“You have time to get used to it.” Daisy reassured her, bringing the ice cream and two spoons to the table.

“No bowls?” Bobbi asked, eyebrow raised.

“No bowls.” Daisy answered. Bobbi shook her head a little. “What, you don’t think we can finish it?” Daisy asked.

Bobbi laughed. “I do not doubt that when we put our minds to something, we can do it.” She answered.

The pair began eating, and Bobbi had to stop herself from groaning at the first bite. Her dinner had been good, but it was obviously the sort of food that was made because it was nutritious. There was literally no reason someone would be eating Phish Food ice cream for any reason other than indulgence, and it had been too long since Bobbi had eaten something just because she could.

“So, tell me more about you and Hunter.” Daisy said. “Specifically, how did he propose?” Daisy paused. “He did propose, right? You guys didn’t do one of those weird mind-meld things where you both decided to get hitched?” She stopped again, and her face morphed into a look of horror. “Don’t tell me if he did it after sex. Or worse, during sex. I don’t need to know that.”

“He did not propose during or after sex.” Bobbi rolled her eyes. Very few people realized that Lance was a romantic at heart, and while he did love sex, he didn’t think it was proposal-appropriate. The first proposal had been on a beach at sunset, and while Bobbi hadn’t expected that level of drama the second time around, it was still sweet.

“We did crosswords together while we were holed up and bored out of our minds.” Bobbi explained. Lance was surprisingly good at crossword puzzles, mostly because he wasn’t afraid of being wrong. “So he made me a crossword puzzle.” Bobbi shook her head, shoving another bite of ice cream into her mouth. “I didn’t even realize what was happening until he pulled the ring out!” She said around the ice cream. Bobbi felt stupid admitting that, but she had been so focused on completing the crossword – and wondering why Lance wasn’t helping her – that the thought it was a proposal was far from the front of her mind.

“You guys really seem to have your shit together.” Daisy commented. “I mean – happily married, kid on the way. You haven’t even insulted him yet! If you squint, it’s almost like you’re domestic.”

That got the loudest laugh from Bobbi all day. She and Lance being on the same _planet_ as domestic was weird enough without being in the same sentence as the word. “We’re not getting a house in the suburbs, Daisy.” She said, leaving no room for arguments. “I’m already freaked out about renting out my uterus once, so two-point-five kids is also totally, _totally_ , out of the question.”

Daisy raised her hands in surrender. “Hey, _I_ never said anything about more babies.” She said. “But you should let this one finish cooking before you go making any declarations. Never say never and all of that.”

Bobbi normally agreed with never saying that something would never happen – there was a point in her life she would have declared she was never going to get married, let alone twice, and to the same man – but the first baby was an accident already. Bobbi opened her mouth to say something to that effect when she was interrupted.

“¿Daisy, dónde está el –” The woman, who looked vaguely familiar, stopped in her tracks when she saw Bobbi sitting at the table with Daisy. Bobbi swallowed her ice cream, trying to place where she had seen the face before.

“¿Qué busca?” Bobbi asked, only slightly hesitant. The woman shook her head slightly, question evidently forgotten, but also appeared to be trying to place Bobbi.

“Yo, Yo-Yo!” Daisy said, breaking a little of the tension between the two women. “This is Bobbi.” She introduced. “Bobbi, this is Yo-Yo. Or Elena, but everyone calls her Yo-Yo.”

Bobbi nodded slightly. “Colombia, right?” God, that had been a long time ago – and so close to her and Hunter leaving S.H.I.E.L.D. that she had honestly blacked it out of her memory. Elena nodded.

“You are a friend of Mack’s.” She stated. Bobbi nodded again but didn’t say anything else.

“You want ice cream?” Daisy offered. There was more than enough for the three of them. Elena nodded again, still seeming hesitant. Daisy went to retrieve a third spoon while Elena took the seat next to Bobbi and diagonal from Daisy. “We were just talking about Bobbi’s husband.” Daisy told Yo-Yo when she handed her the spoon.

“Hunter.” Elena said, rather than asked. At Bobbi’s curious look, Elena shrugged. “Mack talks of you often.”

“Speaking of talking about me, your friend Robbie seemed to be under the impression that I was _dead_?” Bobbi said, turning to Daisy. Daisy’s cheeks turned bright pink.

“Daisy is too busy talking about _other_ things with Robbie to talk about you.” Elena said, voice just as straightforward as it had been when she said Hunter’s name.

Bobbi’s eyebrows shot up at that comment. “Daisy Johnson, have you been misdirecting me with all of your questions so I would not ask about Robbie?” She asked. In her opinion, she totally nailed the nosy older sister voice.

“Elena’s dating Mack!” Daisy said, gesturing with her spoon. “Bother her instead!”  


Bobbi was definitely going to come back to that point, but right now, Daisy was the larger fish to fry. “I am a _master spy_ and you think that misdirection will work on me?” Bobbi asked. “No. Nuh uh. Spill, Johnson.” Elena let out a little chuckle, and Bobbi turned to narrow her eyes at the woman. “We _will_ be getting back to you.” Elena’s smile dropped.

“I’m not _dating_ Robbie.” Daisy grumbled, stabbing her spoon into the ice cream as she glared mutinously at the women across from her. “We’re just friends.”

Elena snorted, so Bobbi knew that was a lie. “What’s his story?” She asked instead of pressing Daisy further. “He doesn’t seem like the kind to join S.H.I.E.L.D.” He wore a leather jacket, after all.

“He made a deal with an interdimensional demon so occasionally his skull bursts into flame and he turns into a spirit of vengeance.” Daisy replied. “I took him under my wing to help him better control his ability.”

“And because she wants to seduce him.” Elena mumbled under her breath. Bobbi laughed at that.

If Daisy had been hoping the whole ‘deal with interdimensional demon’ bit would put Bobbi off, it wouldn’t. She had been at S.H.I.E.L.D. long enough to know that the impossible was possible. It had been too long since she had performed an interrogation, and she wasn’t going to give up that easily. “The question is not whether or not you _are_ dating Robbie. The question is if you _want_ to be dating Robbie.” Bobbi said, enunciating carefully so Daisy wouldn’t be able to pull any stunts about not hearing or understanding the question.

The pink flush darkened to red and began to creep down Daisy’s neck. “I mean, he’s cute and all…” She mumbled.

Bobbi broke into a grin and put her spoon down, so she could rub her hands together. “Just you wait. Lance and I are _amazing_ matchmakers, and when he gets back…” Her smile fell. “If he gets back.” She amended sadly.

“No.” Elena said, covering Bobbi’s hand with hers. There was an amazing amount of familiarity in the gesture, but it didn’t bother Bobbi as much as she thought it would. “When.” Elena offered a smile. “I do not know much about your husband beyond what Mack has told me, but I do know that where you are, he will find you. He has done it before, no?”

Bobbi wanted to protest when they had come to S.H.I.E.L.D., technically it had been her finding him, but she realized that was not the point Elena was trying to make. There were many, many times when he had come charging in to help her – sometimes when she needed help, and sometimes not. But that was what Lance did best; he helped people, especially when ‘people’ included her.

“Bobbi. No crying. Just Phish Food.” Daisy commanded, pushing the pint of ice cream towards her.

“I wasn’t going to cry.” Bobbi muttered, though the veracity of that claim was dubious. She took a spoonful of ice cream and turned to Yo-Yo. “What were you look for, before?” She asked.

“Just the director. He’s been squirrelly recently.” Elena replied. “I can never find him when I need him, and when I do find him…”

“He’s a mile away.” Daisy finished. “I’ve noticed too.” She told Elena. “Do you think something is up?”

Elena shrugged. “When is something not up in this place?”

Bobbi raised her spoon. “Cheers to that.” She said before gulping down the ice cream. A peaceful day at the Playground came once in a blue moon, and most of the time they couldn’t even appreciate it because of the anticipation of something else coming.

“So, can we go back to talking about Mack and Elena now?” Daisy asked eagerly. Elena shot her a dirty look.

“Forgive me if my memory is deceiving me, but didn’t you guys meet when you handcuffed him to your sink?” Bobbi asked.

Elena flushed slightly, but before she could respond, Daisy spoke. “Are you honestly telling me that you’ve never handcuffed Hunter to _anything_ before?” She snorted.

Bobbi tried to flip her hair over her shoulder, and then remembered that she had a distinct lack of hair to flip. She gave Daisy a look that was equivalent to a hair flip. “Not anything that he didn’t ask to be handcuffed to.” She answered primly.

There was a beat of silence before both Daisy and Elena burst into laughter.

The laughter quieted down, and Daisy made a troubling announcement. “We’re out of ice cream.” Bobbi frowned – it really didn’t seem like they had been eating that much. She supposed between there being three of them and the talking, it was easier to ignore just how much they were consuming.

“I guess I do not have an excuse not to look for the director now.” Elena said with a sigh. “It was nice to talk to you, Bobbi. We will have to do it again.” With that, Elena was off.

Bobbi sighed and looked at the wall clock. It was just after nine at night, but she was already exhausted. Having a full stomach for the first time in what felt like forever wasn’t helping her tiredness, either, and she hid a yawn in the crook of her elbow.

“Time for sleep?” Daisy suggested.

Bobbi gave her a look. “Are you going to baby me for the next seven months? Because I cannot take that.”

Daisy shook her head. “Just until Hunter gets back. He can be the overprotective one from then on. But _someone_ needs to look after you.” Bobbi was caught between being annoyed by the fact that Daisy thought she needed looking after and touched by the younger agent caring so much. Bobbi made a low grumbling noise but didn’t protest further. Daisy was only suggesting things that Bobbi probably should have been doing anyways. If it got worse, then she could get snappy.

Daisy led Bobbi to her room, and then leaned against the wall outside the door. Bobbi cocked her head at Daisy. “Something you wanna say?” The blonde asked.

“No.” Daisy answered quickly. She sighed. “Yes.” The agent admitted. She didn’t make any move to say anything, so Bobbi raised an eyebrow. “I’m just really glad you’re home, Bobbi.” For the second time that day, Daisy attacked Bobbi in a hug. This time, though, Bobbi was able to use her arms, and wrap Daisy in a tight, tight embrace. Earlier that day she hadn’t thought that the Playground would ever feel like home again, but Daisy was the reminder she needed of how things could be – easy teasing and happy laughter and people who cared.

Bobbi smiled as she held Daisy out in her arms. “I’m glad to be home.”

There was only one thing missing before that could be true.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Tuesday y'all! I just wanted to take a moment to thank everyone who's left a comment or kudos on this story; it's my first time doing something multi-chapter in a long time and it's really great to hear how much you're enjoying it! I'm trying to write a little faster so I can update twice a week, so keep your eyes peeled. :)


	4. experiencing itself ironically

The next few days passed by relatively uneventfully. Bobbi learned the slightly-altered layout of the Playground easily, even though she spent more time in the gym than she did exploring. She took most of her meals with Daisy, Elena, or both, spending most of her time learning about everything that had happened since she had left. Everyone else was still keeping their distance. Daisy had suggested during one of her private dinners with Bobbi (in Bobbi’s room, again) that maybe their team was waiting for her to make the first move in their reconciliation. Bobbi had brushed it off. She didn’t need any of her estranged team members; their guilt wasn’t her problem.

It was May the fourth when Bobbi got called to the director’s office. She braced herself for bad news – probably that Daisy had to be sent out on a mission and their Star Wars movie marathon was cancelled.

She knocked on the door. “Enter.” Coulson said. There was a slight wheeze in his voice, but Bobbi figured he had just caught the spring cold that was plaguing about half the base. Bobbi, luckily, had managed to dodge the sickness due to her limited exposure to anyone.

When she stepped through the door, Coulson stood up at his desk, smiling. There was a mission folder on his desk, and Bobbi stared at it. “Sir?” She asked, confused. She hadn’t specifically asked not to be placed on field missions, but she had thought that her pregnancy exempted her from… just about everything. When she was used to being back on base again, Bobbi had planned to ask Jemma if she needed help in the lab.

“Non-combat.” The director began, sliding the folder across the table. He clearly wanted Bobbi to pick it up, and she did, leafing through the papers. The corners of her lips turned down in a slight frown.

Coulson sighed. “I know it’s not the best, Bobbi, but…”

“But Clint will take it better from me than just about anyone else.” Bobbi finished with a sigh. She wasn’t pleased that Coulson had decided that now, of all times, was the best to reach out to the Avengers. She was even less pleased that she was going to be the messenger to tell them that the man they thought long-dead was alive and in charge of the agency they had once worked under.

“Have you spoken to Clint recently?” Phil asked. Bobbi shook her head.

“I called him after New York, to make sure he was okay. He had a couple of choice words about me not babying him.” Bobbi snorted. She and Clint had been partners for her first three years at S.H.I.E.L.D., and he had always been touchy about anyone (but specifically her) being what he deemed overprotective. The jerk. “Not since then, though. It would have been too hard to explain.” Bobbi didn’t like lying to Clint, mostly because he was one of the few people who could read her well enough to call her on her bull.

“Consider it a nice time to catch up, then.” Coulson told her. Bobbi snorted. She doubted that anything about her meeting with Clint – and, according to the file, many of the other Avengers – would be pleasant. She could only hope they wouldn’t shoot the messenger. “There’s a Quinjet waiting for you. It shouldn’t be a long flight. They’ve moved out of Stark’s tower, of course, but there’s a base in upstate New York. They’ll be expecting a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent at twelve hundred, but they don’t know the identity of said agent.”

 Bobbi had to stop herself from rolling her eyes. Clint and Natasha were already paranoid enough, and she doubted the rest of the Avengers were much better. Hiding the truth of her identity was probably more because Phil thought there would be some dramatic reunion than because he actually thought it necessary to protect her. From what she understood, the director had cleaned up the situation of her being a wanted woman, and was working on doing the same for Hunter, despite his record being more difficult to expunge.

“I’ll get going now.” Bobbi said. She needed to dig up her tac suit if she was going to go on a mission. Even if Coulson insisted that it was strictly non-combat, she wasn’t about to take any chances.

“Bobbi?” Coulson asked when she was almost at the door. She halted, turning over her shoulder for whatever Coulson had to say. “Don’t die out there.”

Her hand curled into a fist at her side, but Bobbi gave Coulson a short nod before exiting his office to begin her preparations.

\---

Coulson was right about the flight not taking long at all. About twenty minutes after she had taken off from the Playground, Bobbi was entering the Avengers facility air space. “This is S.H.I.E.L.D. Quinjet 674 to Avengers HQ, requesting permission to land.” She said into her headset.

“This is Avengers HQ, permission granted. See you on the ground.” The voice that had answered her was definitely masculine, but not Clint’s. That didn’t mean much to Bobbi, since Natasha was the only female Avenger and also the only other one she’d met in person. She was uneasy about not knowing who she had spoken to, but it wasn’t that big of a deal. Her batons were firmly in their holsters between her shoulder blades, and while she didn’t particularly _want_ to get in a fight with an Avenger, she wasn’t going to put it out of the question.

Bobbi landed the jet, lowered the ramp, and exited. The facility had a landing pad, but it was a few hundred feet away from the main building. Bobbi was about to embark on the walk to the main entrance when she heard the soft sound of footfalls behind her.

She turned around with a smile on her face. “Always a pleasure, Natasha.”

The redhead scowled. “One day I’m going to get the drop on you, Morse.” She said. Bobbi took pride in the fact that she was one of the few people that Natasha couldn’t sneak up on, but that was more due to paranoia (and spending too much time with Clint) than an actual skill on her part.

“Today is not that day.” Bobbi answered. Natasha nodded at that, and then fell into step beside Bobbi as they made their way to the main facility.

“So, we’re finally going to learn who the enigmatic director of S.H.I.E.L.D. is, huh? I didn’t like that Mace guy, but at least he was a face.” Natasha began conversationally.

“I’m surprised you and Clint didn’t go rogue to try to figure it out.” Bobbi said. She trusted that Daisy was more than capable of keeping hackers out of the S.H.I.E.L.D. mainframe, especially when it came to Coulson’s information, but she had also expected at least an attempt or two by the Avengers.

“Steve says that’s bad for diplomatic relations.” Natasha sighed in response. “Normally I’d ignore him, but ever since the mess with the Accords…”

“I bet you guys are glad that they were repealed.” Bobbi talked over the end of Natasha’s sentence, so the spy wouldn’t have to finish her thought, since she seemed reluctant to.

“Extremely.” Natasha replied with a nod. “Too much tension for too little reward. But that’s also why Steve has been so interested in courting S.H.I.E.L.D. Mutual accountability.” Bobbi nodded in understanding. Even if they didn’t want to admit it, a lot of the Avengers did better when they weren’t making their own calls – Captain America was a soldier, and both Clint and Natasha had been agents. Bobbi knew how strange autonomy could be after living under someone else’s direction for so long.

They reached the entrance to the compound and Natasha let them in using some sort of bioscanner. She made an immediate left-hand turn, smiling roguishly at Bobbi over her shoulder before speaking. “I’d like to introduce you boys to our guest, Mrs. Laura Barton!”

Bobbi smacked her forehead in pure exasperation. She should have known Nat was going to try to get her back for the sneaking up thing.

“BOBBI!” That was all the warning that she got before she was slammed into by one hundred and seventy-five pounds of excited Clint Barton. The breath rushed out of her and she stumbled back a step or two before regaining her balance.

“Hey, Hawkguy.” She said, ruffling his hair affectionately. “Long time no see.”

“And whose fault is that?” Clint asked petulantly.

“You have my phone number.” Bobbi replied, unperturbed.

“This is all very touching.” Natasha said, interrupting whatever Clint’s retort was going to be. “But I think I may have given Steve a heart attack, so I’m going to introduce you for real, if that’s alright.”

Bobbi nodded. After a pause, she tapped Clint on the shoulder. “Kind of need you to let go, sport.” Clint made a soft noise of protest before releasing her. It was only when her former partner let go that Bobbi was able to process who else was in the room; Captain America, the Winter Soldier, and Bruce Banner.

“This is Agent Barbara Morse of S.H.I.E.L.D. She’s here as a liaison for the director.” Natasha announced.

“Nice to meet you, Agent Morse.” Captain America was the first to offer his hand, and Bobbi recognized his voice as the one that had given her permission to land the Quinjet.

“Just Bobbi, please, Captain.” She replied, taking his offered hand and shaking it firmly.

“Then I’m going to have to insist you call me Steve.” The blond man said with a twinkling smile.

“Hey, no flirting with my Bobbi!” Clint pouted.

“It wasn’t flirting.” Steve replied at the same time as Bobbi huffed, “I am not _yours_.”

“It was, and you are.” Clint mumbled. Bobbi figured now was not an appropriate time to tell him that she was married. She smacked Clint’s shoulder before moving on to shake hands with Sergeant Barnes and Doctor Banner, who asked to be called by Bucky and Bruce, respectively.

Bobbi was shown to a seat where she could clearly see the five gathered. “Tony is handling some business abroad and Thor is off-world.” Natasha explained. “But we’ll be sure to pass on whatever the director has to share.”

Bobbi nodded. “I guess the first, most important thing, is the director’s identity.” Her briefing packet had, in no uncertain terms, said that was what Bobbi should lead with. She wasn’t sure that was the best idea, but she hadn’t been in the mood to fight with Coulson over how poorly Clint would take it. It was probably a little misleading to say that was the first thing on her agenda, because it was the _only_ thing she was supposed to say before getting the hell out of there.

She sent up a quick prayer that she wouldn’t be murdered. Her child did not deserve to die because Coulson had waited too long to inform the Avengers of his not-dead status. None of them looked armed – everyone was in casual clothes – but Bobbi had learned long ago that just because someone was barehanded and without a tac suit didn’t mean they weren’t dangerous.

“Is this pause for dramatic effect?” Clint joked from his perch on the back of the couch the rest of the team was sitting on.

Bobbi shook her head. “Just trying to figure out my chances of getting out of this alive.” She muttered, low enough that she couldn’t be heard. Steve raised an eyebrow. Shit, did he have super hearing or something?

“Phil Coulson.” Bobbi blurted out before she could lose her nerve.

All hell broke loose, but in the quietest way possible. Natasha let out a curse in Russian, Clint muttered something that sounded suspiciously like ‘fucking bastard’, Steve visibly paled, and Bruce looked more than a little green. Bucky, on the other hand, just looked slightly confused. “Who’s Phil Coulson?” He asked, bewildered.

“He was Natasha and Clint’s handler when they were S.H.I.E.L.D. agents.” Bobbi explained. “He also had some contact with the Avengers. Loki killed him before the Battle of New York.”

“Guess it didn’t stick.” Bucky commented drily. Bobbi nodded, nervously shifting in her seat. Natasha and Clint both looked like they could murder someone.

“How?” Steve asked. He still looked pale, but the color was slowly returning.

“There was a protocol developed… if any of you were to die.” Bobbi said slowly.

“TAHITI.” Bruce interrupted, the green slowly disappearing from his skin. Bobbi nodded. “I consulted for it, briefly.” The scientist explained. “I thought they had scrapped it.”

“Wish they had.” Bobbi said with a sigh. “It caused… a bit of a mess.” That was a different story for a different day, though.

“How long have you known?” Clint asked quietly. “That Coulson was alive.” He clarified.

“Clint, it’s not her fault if –” Steve began.

“I asked _, how long have you known_.” Clint repeated, his voice brokering no room for arguments.

“Three and a half years.” Bobbi answered in a whisper. “I joined his team after S.H.I.E.L.D. fell. Fury gave him the job of rebuilding it, and –”

“And you didn’t think that maybe I would have liked to know?” Clint asked. He leaped off the couch and began advancing on Bobbi’s position. She stood up swiftly, unholstering her batons and holding them in front of her defensively. Clint looked down at them, slightly disgusted. “Do you think I would hurt you, Bobbi?” His voice was laced with poison.

Bobbi looked at her former partner, remaining as calm as she could. “I couldn’t tell you.” Coulson hadn’t trusted her at all, and he would have trusted her even less if he knew that she had shared his biggest secret. “I don’t think that you’d try to hurt me, but I also know that you do things that you regret when you’re angry.” She took a steadying breath. “Stand down, Clint.”

Clint’s nostrils flared slightly, but eventually he took a step backwards. Bobbi didn’t reholster her batons. “I can answer any other questions you have. Eventually, Coulson would like to meet with you all.” She informed them. “But he thought in the interest of staying alive, giving you some space would be prudent.” And he had been right, Bobbi thought. She was sure that anyone else Coulson would have sent would have at least gotten a black eye, or worse.

No one responded to her offer of more information. “I’ll just see myself out, then.” Bobbi said.

“That might be for the best.” Bruce agreed, glancing around at his still-tense colleagues.

She was halfway to the exit when Clint’s voice stopped her. “If Phil was so sure that we’d be angry, why didn’t he send you with any backup?” Bobbi wasn’t sure whether the question came from a place of concern or suspicion. Concern for what would happen if she hadn’t been able to get him to back off, or suspicion that she hadn’t actually been alone.

“Coulson knows you, Clint.” Bobbi answered softly. “He knows you wouldn’t hurt me. My backup, on the other hand, would be fair game.” Carefully, she snapped the batons back into their holsters. Clint blinked at her, considering what she had said and shuffling closer to where she was.

“Doesn’t he know people change?” Clint muttered as he reached where she was standing. “Bobbi, what if –”

“ _It didn’t happen_ , Clint.” Bobbi asserted. She knew how that sentence was going to end; what if I had hurt you? Even if her talk with Clint after the Battle of New York had been brief, it had been obvious that Clint didn’t trust himself, or his judgment, anymore. Maybe the worst of that storm was over, but Bobbi knew those things lingered a long, long time. “And if you had changed so much that you were willing to attack me, then I think I would find it _extremely_ easy to attack you back.” Anyone who would hurt her wasn’t Clint Barton. Bobbi reached her hand up, settling her palm against Clint’s cheek. She half-expected him to pull away, but he didn’t. “I can take care of myself.” She reminded him.

“I know.” Clint looked down, his shoulders sagging. He looked small. “Don’t go, Bobbi.”

“That’s not just your choice.” Bobbi pointed out. Natasha still hadn’t said a word, and she was much less forgiving – and more likely to hurt Bobbi – than Clint was.

“He’s right.” The redhead in question said, voice steady as ever. “We’re not mad at you. You should stay.”

Bobbi looked uneasily at the rest of the group, but Steve was already nodding, and Bruce shrugged. Bucky didn’t have a reason to be angry in the first place, so he was less of a concern. Bobbi turned her gaze back to Clint.

“If you’re about to ask if I’m sure, I am.” Clint said firmly. “Like Nat said, I’m not mad at you. It wasn’t fair of me to get angry at you for Coulson’s choices.”

Bobbi stroked her thumb along the line of Clint’s cheekbone one last time before dropping her hand back down to her side. “I’ll stay, but not for long. If I’m not back to the base for dinner, there will be an extremely angry Inhuman here quaking things apart.”

“You know Quake?” Bruce asked curiously.

“Her name’s Daisy, and yes, I know her. She’s on Coulson’s team.” Bobbi explained. “She’s going to be bummed I didn’t get to meet Stark. She’s half in love with him.” She said with a roll of her eyes. Daisy was interested in everything Tony Stark had to say about technology, even though, in Bobbi’s opinion, the girl was just as smart as her idol.

“She wouldn’t be if she met him.” Nat muttered. Bruce gave her a look, but he was also hiding a smile poorly, so Bobbi had to conclude that Tony was as much of an egotistical ass as the media sometimes made him out to be.

“Drink, Bobbi?” Clint asked, dragging her back to the chair she had just sat in.

“Just water, please.” She answered.

“C’mon, have some fun!” Clint whined. “I know for a fact you can pilot a Quinjet while smashed. You’ve done it before.”

“Just because I can do something doesn’t mean I should, Clinton.” Bobbi shot back.

“Party pooper.” He mumbled. Despite his protests, Clint left towards what Bobbi presumed was the kitchen. She was glad that he hadn’t pushed the subject, though she was sure he was going to be a little miffed when he did find out.

“So, Bobbi.” Steve said, relaxing back into the couch. “Tell me the story of how you became Mrs. Laura Barton?”

“It was for a mission.” Bobbi replied. “Clint and I bought a farmhouse and pretended to be married for a while to infiltrate a nearby town. It ended up being a dud lead, so we weren’t there for long. But Clint and I kept the farm as a safehouse.”

“We’ve been.” Nat said. “When Ultron was taking over the world.” She added. Bobbi huffed out a breath. She hadn’t even told Hunter where the farmhouse was, so she was a little pissed that Clint had told his entire team. She supposed hiding from an evil robot who was taking over the world was a pretty good excuse, but _still_.

“We spent a long time talking about our fake kids.” Clint said as he came back into the room, handing Bobbi a water bottle and passing around other drinks to his teammates. “A boy named Cooper, a girl named Lila… We joked about Bobbi being pregnant with the third.” He smirked. “As if anyone could get Bobbi pregnant.”

It was a testament to Bobbi’s espionage abilities that she did not choke on the sip of water she had just taken.

“It was all very domestic.” Clint finished, taking a sip of the beer he had brought for himself.

“Believe it or not, Clinton, Quake herself told me that I was domesticated.” Bobbi paused. “Well, she said if you squint my life’s domestic. But that’s basically the same thing, right?”

Clint’s eyebrows were raised. “What about you is _domestic_ , Bobbi?”

She shrugged. “I’m married.” She suggested. To someone like Daisy, whose only serious relationship had lasted less than a year (and ended rather abruptly, due to death), getting married to someone probably seemed like a serious achievement.

“No way!” Clint said, taking another swig from his bottle. “Who to? I thought you’d never get over your breakup with Hunter.” Bobbi had to resist the urge to chuckle when she noticed how intently the rest of the Avengers were listening for her answer.

“I’m married to Hunter.” She said. Steve’s eyes widened dramatically, as if he was watching a television show and was surprised by the plot twist. Which, Bobbi supposed, he was, since her life was basically worthy of its own television series. Too bad nobody would air it.

Clint, on the other hand, was staring at her like she had grown a second head. Finally, he spoke again. “I guess if you marry the same guy twice it’s meant to be.” He said. “Or you’re just really fucking stupid.” Natasha leaned over to swat at him for that, and Bobbi smiled at her. She was not stupid for marrying Lance again – that much she knew for certain.

They chatted for a while about a plethora of things, sharing stories from Clint and Bobbi’s time as partners but also her experiences with Coulson’s team, which were carefully edited to omit the fact that she had been disavowed and on the run. Clint would have many, many things to say about that, and Coulson was already in enough hot water with him.

Eventually Bobbi couldn’t put off leaving any more. She thanked the group for their hospitality and promised to be in touch when she had debriefed with the director.

She got back to the base in time to eat dinner, and Coulson was nowhere to be found when she tried to complete her debrief. Instead, she and Daisy watched _The Force Awakens_ in lieu of their entire marathon. Bobbi was shooed off to bed by Daisy after she had half-fallen asleep on her friend. Again, the motherliness didn’t bother her.

The empty bed, on the other hand, _was_ bothersome. Bobbi had been keeping herself busy enough that the ache of missing Hunter could be ignored, but in the quiet moments before she fell asleep, she wondered where he was, and if he was okay.

It always made her dream of him, and Bobbi was okay with that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello my loves! I'm sorry that I haven't been able to respond to all your lovely comments on the previous chapter; school has been biting me in the ass. :( Rest assured that I am reading and do very much appreciate your support! <3


	5. i need some space to run around

Bobbi spent the majority of the next week trying to track down Coulson, but if there was one thing Elena had gotten right, it was that the director was unusually squirrelly. Bobbi didn’t so much as pass him in the hallway, and he was never around for the dinners the team had together – even the one that Bobbi had attended before the stifling silence had chased her back into the solitude of her bunk, quickly followed by her pseudo-entourage of Daisy and Elena.

Bobbi had been about ready to give up on ever giving her mission report when she was told, via May, that the director was expecting her in his office as soon as convenient. Considering she still hadn’t talked to Jemma about coming back to the lab, ‘as soon as convenient’ was code for ‘right away’, and Bobbi knew it.

Bobbi knocked on the director’s door and felt an odd sense of déjà vu. Her days were bleeding together very quickly without any sense of urgency to dog her every move, so doing something that meant she was doing _something_ stuck out starkly in Bobbi’s mind. Again, she was invited in almost immediately.

“Yes, sir?” She said, flickering her eyes to his desk, just in case there happened to be another mission waiting for her. Bobbi assumed that she was there for the debrief, but she never knew with Coulson.

He didn’t look great. In fact, he looked like shit. The grey cast that Bobbi had first thought was a trick of the light made him look sickly, and the bags under his eyes were too large to attribute to a lack of sleep. The wrinkles in his skin looked like canyons, and Bobbi wondered how he had gotten so much worse looking in the short week since they had last spoken. At least now she understood why he didn’t want the team to see him. Something was obviously wrong – very wrong.

“I wanted to inform you that we’ve received information that may lead us to Agent Hunter’s whereabouts.” Coulson croaked. Bobbi tried not to flinch at the sound of his voice, like sandpaper in his throat. It only confirmed her previous suspicions that something was up with Coulson. “You won’t be on the mission, of course.” She had expected that, but Bobbi still wasn’t pleased. She crossed her arms over her chest, waiting for Coulson to say more. She didn’t think he’d call her in just to tell her that, especially since he had been avoidant.

“If you can’t be on the team, I thought you’d like a say in who is.” Bobbi straightened, narrowing her eyes slightly at Coulson. She was waiting for clarification, and the director didn’t disappoint. “There’s a Watchdogs base that we believe Hunter may be held at.” Bobbi could feel her muscles tense at that, her arms tightening around herself. Hunter being taken by the Watchdogs was her worse-case scenario. Unlike the other groups, they didn’t want Lance for information… just as a plaything.

“The plan is to take a small team to infiltrate the base. We’re looking at three, maybe four, people.” Coulson explained. “The information we received implied that Hunter, in addition to a dozen other humans and Inhumans, were being kept underneath an old factory.” Bobbi wondered how they knew that Hunter was one of those being kept, but she wasn’t sure asking questions would do her any favors. “We’d prefer to keep the number of Inhumans on the mission minimal, but… it’s really up to you.” He finished.

Bobbi stared. “Do you get veto power?” She asked. She didn’t know what Coulson’s play was here – if he was going to try to get her to pick the team that he already wanted, or if she truly had free reign. The director shook his head.

“Who you say goes, goes.” Coulson replied, voice firm and stronger than it had been since they had started speaking. He was wrong to say that she got a say in the team, then – she got _the_ say.

And Bobbi already knew who she wanted. “Daisy. Elena. Mack.” She listed. “Just them. They don’t need a fourth.”

Coulson stared at her for a moment, looking like he was about to argue, but eventually nodded. “The team will be leaving after dinner tonight. The mission is expected to end by morning.”

Bobbi swallowed past the lump in her throat. By the next morning, she would be able to hold her husband in her arms again. She wouldn’t be alone anymore. She let out a long breath through her nose. “Do you need anything else, sir? My debrief from the meeting with the Avengers?” She suggested.

Coulson shook his head. “Later.” He said. The newfound strength in his voice was already fading, and Bobbi jerked her head in a nod. She exited the room quickly, before Coulson could change his mind about letting her pick the team. Bobbi supposed that he could still change his mind, but… she was going to hope that he didn’t. She knew that the team she picked would do their best to find Hunter.

Hopefully their best would be good enough.

\---

Dinner was a tense affair, and it was obvious to Bobbi that Coulson had not only told the team where they were going, but also who had picked them. Mack hadn’t stopped staring at her since she had sat down, his expression wary but hopeful, as if he was trying to figure out if he was redeemed.

May, on the other hand, was glaring daggers while eating her food. Bobbi couldn’t think of a reason why that would be, except that May wanted to be on the team herself, which didn’t make sense. As far as Bobbi knew, May had neither a vendetta against the Watchdogs nor a fondness for Hunter. There was no reason for her to want to go.

Elena and Daisy both finished eating before Bobbi did, but she left her food on the table when they stood up. Both the women were already suited up. Mack hadn’t been, but he had also left the dinner table nearly fifteen minutes ago, and Bobbi didn’t think it was a bad guess to assume that he was off getting ready for the mission.

The trio walked in silence to the hangar. When they got there, Mack was waiting in his tac suit. He stared at Bobbi again, but didn’t make a move to talk to her, instead keeping his distance as Elena and Daisy both turned to Bobbi.

“We’ll bring him back.” Daisy promised. She flashed Bobbi a smile, which Elena mirrored.

“Don’t make promises if you’re not sure you can keep them.” Bobbi warned. “You know that.” She tried to make her voice admonishing, but it didn’t quite sound right. Daisy’s smile softened, and she wrapped her arms around Bobbi.

“We’ll do it.” She repeated, moving back so that Yo-Yo could say goodbye, too.

“No te preocupes, cariña.” Elena whispered, pressing a soft kiss to Bobbi’s cheek. “If not today, then tomorrow. And if not tomorrow, the next day…”

“Or the next day, or the next day.” Bobbi finished, giving Elena a tight smile. “In case you haven’t noticed, I’m kind of working on a timeline here.” The impatience in Bobbi’s voice was obvious, and she felt bad. She knew Elena didn’t deserve the annoyance, but it was _hard_. The other woman simply squeezed Bobbi tighter.

Mack cleared his throat. “We’d better be going.” He said. Elena released Bobbi, and both she and Daisy boarded the waiting plane. Mack looked at her one more time and opened his mouth as if to say something. He shut it.

Bobbi mock-saluted, and Mack returned the gesture before he, too, left to get on the plane.

She watched as they took off and waited in the empty hangar for a long while after they had disappeared into the horizon.

When she went back to the kitchen, her unfinished dinner sat on the table, cold. Bobbi sat down in front of it anyways, knowing that she wouldn’t be able to sleep if her stomach was empty. She considered putting it in the microwave but figured it would be just as appetizing either way – that was, not appetizing at all. Seeing the mission team off had stolen her hunger, it seemed.

Bobbi finished her dinner with quick, efficient bites that didn’t let her taste the food. She was going about the familiar ritual of washing her plate – and the rest of the dishes that had piled up in the sink – when she heard the soft sound of the door opening.

When she turned around, May was standing in the doorway, still glaring. Bobbi waited a moment for the older woman to speak, but May didn’t say anything. Bobbi turned back to the dishes, figuring that if they were going to play the silent game then she could at least get things done. All the dishes were back in the cupboards by the time May spoke.

“Did you listen to what Coulson said?” Bobbi turned to look at May, confused as to where the question came from. When the blonde didn’t respond, May let out an exasperated sigh. “He told you he’d prefer to minimize the amount of Inhumans on the mission, yet two-thirds of your team was Inhuman!” Bobbi was beginning to understand now. This was about May’s weakness: Daisy. She had missed the past two years, but she knew one thing, and that was that May did not like Daisy being put in harm’s way, ever. She especially hated it when she thought the danger was pointless, and if Bobbi knew May, she thought rescuing Hunter was one such pointless danger.

“I picked the team that I thought would best be able to complete the objectives of the mission.” Bobbi answered levelly. Considering one of the objectives of the mission was to get Hunter home safely, Bobbi didn’t think anyone could fault her for choosing the people who actually cared about Hunter – the people who cared about her.

If anything, that explanation made May even angrier. She stalked forward, and Bobbi wondered if she was about to be pinned to a wall; it wouldn’t be the first time May had done it. Instead, the older woman stopped just short of Bobbi, the distance between them measured in millimeters instead of inches. “If you really wanted it done, you should have sent me.” Bobbi wanted to laugh, because there was so much _ego_ in that statement. She knew she would have said the same thing if the positions were reversed. But the positions weren’t reversed, so Bobbi could laugh at May’s ignorance.

“Maybe you’re thinking about your baby,” May blanched at the word, “being in danger, but I have a baby to think about too.” Bobbi said. Her stomach flipped uncomfortably at the idea of her child, and the declaration she was about to make. “And it deserves a father.”

May had finally dropped the glare. It was replaced by a look that was a mixture of terrified, confused, and angry. “Daisy is not my baby.” She finally hissed. Bobbi just gave May a look. She had known who Bobbi was talking about despite Daisy’s name never being said, and that was really all Bobbi needed to prove her point.

“I’ll be in my room.” Bobbi said. May didn’t move to stop her – didn’t move at all – as Bobbi exited the kitchen and returned to her hideout.

\---

Bobbi didn’t sleep. She knew that sitting in her room, worrying, probably wasn’t productive, but Coulson had said that the mission would be done by morning, which meant that at that very moment Lance could be fighting for his life. Or he could be on his way back to her.

The bad thing about sending the three people she trusted on the mission was that Bobbi didn’t have anyone to tell her not to freak out. She doubted that it would have helped whatsoever, but there was something distinctly lonely about watching the digital clock count up, minute by minute. Every time she heard a sound, Bobbi snapped to attention, wondering if it was the footsteps she so desperately wanted to hear.

About one in the morning, she got sick of doing nothing but literally twiddling her thumbs. Bobbi got up, stretching her arms above her head and trying to unknot the muscles in her back. Sitting in the same position for hours on end was not a kind thing to do to her body. Bobbi knew that, but she hadn’t wanted to start pacing and alert everyone to the fact that she was awake.

Bobbi slipped out of her room. Even with the layout slightly changed and the lights dimmed to reflect that it was the middle of the night, she found her way to the gym easily. She just needed to do _something_. Bobbi flicked on the lights in the gym and was surprised to find there was already someone there.

“You normally sit in the dark?” She asked Simmons calmly. Jemma shook her head.

“I was waiting for you.” The younger agent said quietly. “I thought if you knew I was in here you would turn around.” It wasn’t a bad assumption, Bobbi had to admit.

“Dare I ask why you’re waiting for me?” Bobbi asked, arching an eyebrow.

“Well, first and foremost, someone should be supervising the time you spend in the gym, so you don’t overexert yourself.” Simmons said. Bobbi glared at her. Daisy coddling her had already begun to chafe, but Daisy also regularly plied her with ice cream, so Bobbi was willing to tolerate it. “Secondly, I wanted to talk to you. Alone.”  Simmons didn’t say it, but Bobbi knew that the fact she had been constantly flanked by Daisy and Elena, or shut in her bunk, would have made it hard to have any sort of private conversation.

Bobbi made her way over to a treadmill and turned it on. Her pace was barely a brisk walk, but she figured that trying to run while talking to Simmons was not going to work out well. Especially if Jemma was going to try to have some sort of heart-to-heart.

“Fitz and I are getting married.” It was a really good thing she hadn’t been running, because Bobbi would have flown off the treadmill. As things were, she still stumbled, and had to take a moment to regain her footing. She felt like someone had punched her in the stomach… and she wanted to punch them back. Bobbi wasn’t sure why she was so _angry_. She and Lance had spent so much time trying to get Fitz and Simmons to admit that they were perfect for each other, and –

And they hadn’t done anything about it until after she and her husband were gone, never to return. Bobbi realized her mouth was horribly dry, and she licked her lips before responding to the declaration. “Congratulations.” She had been going for enthusiastic, but it came out flat. Bobbi felt like she had right after she had gotten shot through the lung. It was horribly hard to breathe, and everything felt tight and wrong.

Maybe going on the treadmill was a mistake, Bobbi thought. But she couldn’t get off, because then Jemma would know something was more wrong than she already did from Bobbi’s stumble and her tone of voice.

“Are you horribly angry?” Jemma asked, voice small. Bobbi turned up the speed on the treadmill, not looking at Jemma. It didn’t help the ache in her chest, but the jitters she had felt were relieved to have an outlet.

“Not angry.” Bobbi replied, her voice still sounding… off, even to her own ears. She hated not being able to lie easily.

Simmons let out a loud sigh. “I don’t understand, Bobbi. I don’t understand what you want from me!” Jemma was pacing now, and Bobbi slammed her finger against the speed button on the treadmill. They were both frustrated, and Bobbi wished that she could just stop _feeling_ so much. Stupid hormones.

“I try to be polite and professional, and you shut me out. I try to tell you something personal, something you should be _happy_ about, and then you – you do this!” Jemma threw her hands up in exasperation, and Bobbi felt a slow bubble of anger building in her chest. “If you don’t want to be friends again, that’s fine, I get it, you’ve had two years to move on –”

“Is that what you think we’ve been doing?” Bobbi asked. “Moving on?” She jammed the power button, because she couldn’t say this while walking. She could barely say it while just standing because it hurt so fucking bad.

God, why did it hurt so much?

“Jemma, we spent the last two years trying not to _die_. And I get it, we did that when we were agents. Boo fucking hoo, Bobbi and Hunter have to go off on their own, that’s great, they’ll probably just – just _fuck_ and _fight_ and they’ll be _fine_!” The letter f came hissing off her tongue as Bobbi smacked the handrails on the treadmill she was standing on. “And every fucking day something new would go wrong. And _God_ , I love Lance, but only having one person on the entire planet to have your back is _exhausting_. Every night we’d go to bed wondering if we’d have tomorrow and –”

Bobbi let out a shuddering breath, not sure whether she was going to start crying. “I wanted tomorrow, Jemma. I wanted _so many_ tomorrows. I wanted an entire lifetime of tomorrows. But I didn’t want them just with Lance. I wanted them with you, and with Fitz, and with Mack and Daisy and May and Coulson…” She wasn’t going to cry, Bobbi determined, but she wasn’t going to stop being angry, either. “And I didn’t get those. They _stole_ two years of my life.” She put her hands behind her head, elbows out. “If I hadn’t gotten pregnant, they would have stolen the rest of it.” Okay, maybe crying still was on the table. Bobbi didn’t really know. “I’m so _angry_ , Jem.” She said, voice breaking. She had lied when she said she wasn’t. Obviously. “I’m angry that they took my life. And I’m angry that I let it be taken. I’m angry at all the things I missed because of it.” Bobbi let out a long breath. She wasn’t going to enumerate everything that she had missed, because she was sure Jemma knew. Her and Fitz being together – that was just the beginning.

Bobbi looked down at the floor but didn’t stop talking. “Robbie said that he thought we were dead. And I guess that pissed me off, too. Like what we did was for nothing. You just… forgot about us.” Bobbi let out another huffy breath, her shoulders slumping forward. She had never thought she’d be forgotten, but she had been. She had just slipped away.

The silence was deafening, and Bobbi wondered if she had said too much. She had taken Jemma’s announcement of getting married and made it all about herself, and even if she hadn’t had much human contact for the past two years, she knew that was a shitty thing to do, especially to someone who was supposed to be your friend.

“I didn’t realize you felt that way.” Jemma said softly. It sounded like the sort of thing she was saying because she didn’t know what else to say, but it was better than the quiet.

“Yeah, well, neither did I.” Bobbi replied, the edge of anger still in her voice. “I’m not good at the whole ‘emotional confessions’ thing. And Daisy made me do one last week, too, so.” Bobbi bit off the end of her sentence. She really didn’t want Jemma asking questions about that one, because then Bobbi would have to admit she had cried, and there would be a lecture about how feeling things differently was natural during pregnancy, and she couldn’t deal with that right now.

Bobbi finally looked up from the floor. Jemma still looked… stunned. There was something else in her eyes, too, and Bobbi took a moment to figure it out. It was the same look Jemma got when she finished something in the lab. Like she had just had an epiphany. Like Bobbi herself was an epiphany.

She was going to be sorely disappointed.

“I thought this was just about the incident.” Jemma told Bobbi. “And I didn’t understand.” That was the crux of the issue, Bobbi thought. Jemma was a scientist. She always wanted to understand.

“We talked sometimes, about what it would be like if we ever came back.” Bobbi admitted. “Being held at gunpoint was not ever a consideration.” Unexpected situations were what made this hard, in the end. She hadn’t expected to be forgotten. She hadn’t expected to be threatened. Both of those happening was just too much, and keeping people away helped her not have further incidents with the unexpected. Like this one, Bobbi supposed. With Elena, it was easy, because there were no expectations. And with Daisy… well, Daisy made it her business to defy expectations on a regular basis, so that made it easy, too.

“I’m sorry.” Jemma all but whispered. Bobbi nodded. It was the first time she was really ready to accept the apology, and she felt like a weight was being lifted off her shoulders. It was getting easier and easier to breathe with every passing moment.

“I’m sorry, too, Jemma. You shouldn’t have had to deal with this.” Bobbi carded her fingers through her hair, and finally stepped off the treadmill, uncertain if Jemma was okay with her getting closer.

“Bobbi.” Jemma’s voice was harsher than it had been before, and Bobbi wondered what she had said wrong. “You’re not something that we have to _deal with_.” Jemma spat the last two words like they disgusted her. “And… about what you said earlier. About forgetting you.” Jemma cleared her throat, and Bobbi was suddenly reminded that talking about her feelings wasn’t exactly easy for the scientist either – hence why there had been the whole debacle with her and Fitz in the first place.

“Fitz and I would have done anything to have you there, at the wedding. We were talking about how we were going to convince Coulson and find you when you just… showed up.” Bobbi watched Jemma’s throat bob as she swallowed. “And it’s statistically improbable – some would say _impossible_ – for that to happen, but it was like… just this once the universe gave us a break.” Jemma swallowed hard again.

“I couldn’t forget you if I tried, Bobbi. Without you and Hunter, I’m not sure I ever would have ended up here, marrying the love of my life.” Jemma closed her eyes, and took a deep breath, as if bracing herself for something. “I want you to be my maid of honor. Well, matron, really, because Daisy mentioned you’re married, but at the time I told Fitz I wanted you to be I had no way of knowing that, and –” Jemma was about to start babbling.

“Jemma.” Bobbi cut her off. “I would be honored. But… are you sure? I mean, not just with everything that’s happened, but also with…” Bobbi paused and then gestured vaguely to her stomach area. She had no idea when the wedding was going to be, but Bobbi didn’t want her pregnancy to make the logistical planning of a wedding even worse than it had to be. There was a reason she had eloped twice.

Jemma nodded resolutely. “I want you. I know this past week has been rough, and I’d be lying if I said I didn’t consider asking Daisy instead, because she was – well, not my backup, but…” Jemma trailed off. “I think in the end, you being the maid – matron – of honor was just as obvious as Fitz being the groom.” The younger woman smiled. “Part of why I asked now is because Fitz will be asking Hunter to be his best man when the team rescues him.”

Jemma stepped a little bit closer to Bobbi, and the blonde mirrored the movement. They still weren’t close enough to touch, but they were closer than they had been. “You’ll get him first, though, of course.” Jemma assured Bobbi, inching closer again. Bobbi snorted. She wasn’t sure anyone could beat her to Lance if they tried. That was part of why she was still awake, after all – as soon as the team returned, she was going to be there, waiting for her husband with open arms.

Speaking of… “How did you know I’d come?” Bobbi asked, continuing her slow migration closer to Jemma.

“You’re not a very patient person, Bobbi Morse.” Jemma said, teasing coloring her voice. “And I knew that you are _horrible_ at following any and all medical instructions, so if I told you to get extra rest for the baby you’d go out of your way not to get any sleep at all.” She finished smugly.

“Hey, I sleep!” Bobbi protested. “When I’m alone in my bunk I don’t just sit and stare at my walls.” She said. Bobbi didn’t advertise how often she napped, partially because she was embarrassed with how much of her alone time she spent asleep. She wished that she could say it was of her own volition, because she knew how important getting rest was to ensuring her baby’s health, but if she was honest, sometimes Bobbi just couldn’t keep her eyes open.

“I know.” Jemma said fondly. All of her inching towards Bobbi finally culminated in them being nearly chest to chest. “Bobbi, I don’t know if anyone’s told you this, but you’re going to be an amazing mother.” Jemma reached a hand out, and Bobbi twisted her fingers through her friend’s, squeezing softly. Bobbi’s stomach did a backflip at the statement.

“Lance has.” Bobbi replied. After they had had the conversation about what they were going to do and had agreed on keeping the baby and trying to get back into S.H.I.E.L.D., he had told her that she was going to be a great mum. She had retorted that he was going to be a better father, and it had been surreal, the smile on his face. Bobbi’s stomach flipped again. She missed that smile, but hopefully she wouldn’t have to miss it for much longer.

As if on cue, the pager clipped to Jemma’s pants beeped. She grabbed it with the hand that wasn’t holding Bobbi’s, and then turned to the blonde, eyes alight. “The mission finished sooner than they thought.” Jemma informed Bobbi. “They’re on their way back now.”

Bobbi was sure that the pause Jemma took was no longer than a normal breath would take, but it felt like an eternity. “Hunter’s with them.”

Bobbi’s heart felt like it was going to split open in her chest. Her husband was alive. He was with Daisy and Elena and Mack.

Lance was coming home to her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Tuesday! I have recently acquired a tumblr, [here](https://huntxngbxrd.tumblr.com/). I cannot promise I'll be posting a ton but if you have questions/comments/concerns/prompts, feel free to reach out to me there. :)


	6. i'll always have the underground

Bobbi all but dragged Jemma to the hangar. It had only been a few hours ago that she had been there, telling Daisy not to make promises that she couldn’t keep, telling Elena that she was working on a timeline, and in a few minutes (okay, more like fifteen minutes, but it was close enough), she would be holding her husband.

Jemma’s pager beeped periodically, but the doctor assured Bobbi that none of the updates she was receiving were about Hunter; they were bringing a half-dozen others with them, too. Bobbi wondered whether the original intelligence that Coulson had received, stating there were a dozen people with Hunter, was wrong, or if there were casualties. She prayed for the former, but she knew the latter was more likely.

The doors to the hangar opened, and Bobbi watched as the Quinjet touched down. The time between when the wheels were on the ground and when the ramp lowered was the longest few seconds in Bobbi’s recent memory. The first person out wasn’t Lance – it was Mack, pulling along two gurneys. “Do you need me, Jemma?” Bobbi asked. She desperately wanted the answer to be no, but she was already awake, and she had enough medical knowledge from her time at S.H.I.E.L.D. and her recent years on the run to be of help if Jemma was overwhelmed.

The brunette shook her head. “They’re on the gurneys as a precaution. Mack thought they might have sustained spinal damage.” She explained. When the gurneys rolled past, Bobbi saw that the people on them did indeed look fine – more or less.

Bobbi entirely forgot about the people on the gurneys when she saw who exited next.

Hunter looked like shit. The entire right side of his face was swollen in one mottled purple bruise, and his bare arms were shiny and red as if they had been burned. His entire body looked to be covered in a fine layer of dirt and soot, and when he walked towards Bobbi, he was limping. His hair was wild, and his beard was shaggier than his normal stubble; all of the hair was slicked against his skin with grease.

He looked like shit, but it was the most beautiful sight Bobbi had ever seen.

He opened his arms to her, and Bobbi stepped into her husband’s embrace easily. Her train of thought was replaced with a barely coherent string of words. _Warm good home safe Lance here nice please stay_. They stood there, not moving and not speaking, chest to chest, until his heartbeat swallowed hers. It might have been a minute, but it could have just as easily been an eternity, and Bobbi was basking in just being there, with him.

She leaned back slightly, intending to kiss him, but Lance dodged her easily. “I haven’t brushed my teeth in three weeks, love.” He said with a small chuckle. “I would not be pleasant to kiss.” Now that he mentioned it, Bobbi realized that in addition to looking like shit, Hunter smelled like shit, too. She wrinkled her nose, and Lance laughed again. It was a beautiful, wonderful sound, even if it had a bit of a rasp to it.

“Simmons said you can go back to your bunk so long as you report to medical in the morning.” Bobbi hadn’t even realized that Daisy had exited the Quinjet, let alone that she had been less than five feet away from her and Hunter. She couldn’t bring herself to care, either. Lance nodded his understanding, but Bobbi was already dragging him back to her bunk – their bunk.

She didn’t stop in their bedroom, instead leading them both into the bathroom, since Lance obviously needed a shower and she wasn’t about to leave him after just getting him back. Bobbi reached over to turn on the shower while Lance peeled off the clothes that he had been wearing. They were going to get burned, Bobbi decided – they were too soiled for anything else to be an option.

Lance was tugging insistently on the hem of her shirt, and Bobbi lifted her arms without thinking so that he could get it off her. She stripped the shorts she had been wearing and lifted her arms again so Lance could free her from her sports bra.

“Brush your teeth first.” Bobbi said suddenly. Lance rolled his eyes at the request, but obliged. Bobbi tried not to think about how ridiculous it was that they had both stripped naked just to wait for two minutes while Lance brushed his teeth. As soon as he was finished, though, Bobbi turned his head so she could kiss him. His tongue slid along hers, and Bobbi could feel the tension she had been holding slowly begin to bleed out.

Lance made a soft noise of contentment, but also nudged her towards the shower. At least at this point it had had time to warm up, Bobbi thought. She ducked under the warm spray first, but Hunter followed immediately after.

“Might need help.” Lance murmured to her. He held up his hands to her for closer inspection, and Bobbi had to keep herself from flinching. She had seen that his arms looked burned, but his hands looked even worse, with tiny blisters bubbling all over his fingers and palms. She could only imagine how painful it must have been for him to hold her hand, especially since her grip hadn’t exactly been gentle.

She moved to grab the shampoo, but Lance blocked her. “Wait.” She watched as he kneeled carefully in front of her, so he was staring right at her navel. He leaned his forehead against her stomach, and Bobbi took a deep, steadying breath as he began to speak.

“Hello, baby bird. It’s your da speaking.” Bobbi’s breath caught in her throat. She still couldn’t wrap her head around the idea of the two of them being parents but hearing him talking to their child helped immensely. “I know it’s been a bit since we last talked, and I’m sorry for that, but I hope you know there hasn’t been a day when I didn’t think about you and your mummy.” The more Lance spoke, the more Bobbi realized that his voice was different, deeper and raspier. She had a feeling it had something to do with the story of what had happened at the Watchdogs base, but she didn’t want to ask and ruin the moment. “You took good care of her, yeah?” Lance asked seriously, still speaking to her stomach. “She’s a handful, your mum, but I like her quite a bit.”

“Hey.” Bobbi said, tapping the side of his head none too gently. “You’d better do more than just like me, mister, considering you knocked me up.” Lance looked up at her with wide, innocent eyes and a stupid smile, and Bobbi damn near melted. He pressed a quick kiss to the skin beneath her navel before standing up and kissing her on the mouth.

“Course I love you, Bob.” He said. “Thought that was obvious, considering we’re married and all.” Lance shifted a little. “Speaking of, before we throw those clothes out, there are some things sewn in the lining that you might want.” Bobbi’s heart jumped into her throat for a moment. Lance had taken her engagement ring and their wedding rings with him. She had assumed that when he was captured he had lost them or they were taken, but it seemed he had thought far enough ahead for that not to happen. Maybe he was better at planning then she was giving him credit for. But not too much better, Bobbi thought with a small smirk.

“Bobbi?” Lance asked quietly, flicking his eyes towards the shampoo bottle. She nodded as she poured shampoo into her palms and worked into a lather, massaging it into his scalp. Lance hummed softly, and Bobbi smiled.

As she washed Lance’s body, Bobbi began to explain everything that had happened while they were separated, paying special attention to the events that had transpired since she had returned to the base, from Coulson’s strange behavior to the incident where everyone had thought she was a robot. He had been less than pleased with that, but Bobbi placated him with practiced ease. It was only when she got to the story of that night – morning? – that Bobbi slowed down, considering how best to go about telling him. Eventually, like Simmons, she decided just to rip off the band-aid.

“Fitzsimmons are getting married.” She whispered as she dragged the washcloth she was holding across the bruised expanse of Hunter’s ribs.

There was a beat of quiet, followed by a dry chuckle. “About bloody time!” Lance started coughing, and Bobbi grabbed his bicep, squeezing it tightly until the coughing spell was over. Smoke inhalation, Bobbi decided – that would explain both the burns and the coughing. Her husband looked up at her and frowned at the worry clear on her face. “Is everything alright, sweetheart?” He asked gently.

“I yelled at Simmons. When she told me.” Bobbi said, wringing out the washcloth to give herself something to do other than talk. The water had been gray at the beginning of the shower, but it was beginning to run clear, and Bobbi knew that soon she wouldn’t have any excuse to linger in the shower. They both needed to sleep, she knew, but for some reason, the thought terrified her.

“D’you know why?” Lance asked. Bobbi shrugged, avoiding his eyes.

“I just wish we never had to leave.” She whispered.

“Hey.” Lance said, nudging her until she looked at him. “Aren’t you the one always saying everything happens for a reason?” He asked. Bobbi nodded. “Doesn’t us leaving fall under everything?” He questioned. She nodded again, understanding where this was going. If they hadn’t left, then they wouldn’t be here now. There would definitely be no baby, and the state of their relationship would be questionable, at best.

“Still sucks.” Bobbi muttered. It was Lance’s turn to nod.

“It’s still okay to be angry, Bob.” He said. His lips quirked into a small smile. “But don’t let it control you.” She had given him the same lecture too many times, especially when they were both dead-set on going after Ward. Apparently, he had listened better than his actions at the time had let on.

Bobbi finished one more pass over Lance’s body and was pleased to see that he was clean – or at least as clean as he could get. The water was getting cold and there were no more excuses to stay in the shower. Lance stepped out first, and Bobbi followed. Lance handed her a towel and she wrapped it around her body as he wrapped his own towel around his waist.

Her husband stooped down and grabbed the jacket that he had been wearing in between his thumb and index finger. After rummaging through the drawers, he found one of Bobbi’s stashed weapons, and cut a slit in the fabric. Within moments, he was handing her the rings. “Best wait for this to be healed up before I put mine on, hmm?” Lance asked, holding up his swollen hands. Bobbi nodded, moving to put all the rings on the side of the sink.

“You can still wear yours.” Lance said, frowning.

“Right.” She said quietly.

“You don’t have to.” Lance rushed to assure her. 

“No, I want to. I don’t know why I wouldn’t.” Bobbi replied, sliding her rings onto her fingers. The weight was welcome and familiar, and she wondered why she had hesitated. It was too late – early – to be thinking about those sorts of things.

They both slid into bed, still damp from their showers and very much naked. Bobbi almost laughed; this was so far from what everyone probably assumed that they were doing, yet she wouldn’t have it any other way.

Lance’s arms looped around her waist and he pressed their bodies together, his front against her back. He put his head over her shoulder and pressed a feather-light kiss against her neck. “Go to sleep, Bobbi.” He whispered.

She was all too happy to oblige.

\--- 

Bobbi woke up to an empty bed, and for a moment she couldn’t breathe.

“Right here, love.” Lance said from the doorway to the bathroom. He had a toothbrush stuck in the corner of his mouth and looked as if he had been awake for some time. Bobbi threw her legs over the side of the bed and stood up, stretching.

Lance looked like he was about to choke on his own spit, and that was when Bobbi remembered she was topless. She laughed as Lance pinkened; it was nice to know some things never changed.

“Going to medical once I finish this.” Lance said around his toothbrush. Bobbi nodded, and began searching for clothes. “You don’t need to come with me.” He protested, but Bobbi shook her head. Spending all her time with Lance for nearly two years and then not seeing him for almost two months was like whiplash; she wasn’t sure she could handle him leaving again, even if it was only for the time that it would take for him to get examined.

Lance finished brushing his teeth. “Glad you’re putting clothes on.” He said as he sidled up to her, pressing a soft kiss to the side of her neck. “Wouldn’t want anyone else to see what’s mine.”

Bobbi rolled her eyes. “Possessive much?” She muttered as Lance kissed her throat again. Bobbi could feel him smiling into her skin.

“Definitely.” He agreed, unbothered by her accusation. They both knew Bobbi could be equally possessive when she wanted to be, so it wasn’t like she could berate him for it; glass houses and throwing stones and all of that.

Bobbi stepped away from Lance, so she could slide a shirt over her head. He made a soft whining noise and she rolled her eyes again. “We are going to medical, not having sex.” She told her husband firmly, batting him away when he tried to begin kissing her again.

“After?” Lance suggested with his big doe eyes.

“We’ll see.” She replied. “Depends on how good of a patient you are, I suppose.” Bobbi smirked. “Good patients aren’t late to their appointments.” She said pointedly.

“Yeah, yeah.” Lance said. “I told Simmons I’d be around at ten, it’s only…” He looked at the clock and deflated.

“Ten fifteen.” Bobbi finished.

“She knows I got in late last night. She’s probably expecting it.” Lance said, half to himself. Bobbi shook her head, amused, and then opened the door so her husband could lead the way.

Despite being late, Simmons was ready to see them as soon as they walked through the door. They went to the same room that Bobbi had been in twice before, and she was glad that she wasn’t the one being examined this time.

“It’s alright with you if she’s in here?” Jemma asked, nodding to Bobbi as she addressed Lance.

“Why wouldn’t it be?” He asked, bristling slightly. Bobbi had thought that she was the only one with separation anxiety, but from Lance’s response, Bobbi guessed he wasn’t ready to leave her, either.

“Just protocol.” Jemma assured him. “Patient privacy and all that. If there was a case of spousal abuse, then obviously it would be difficult to report if the person’s spouse accompanied them to all medical appointments.”

Lance relaxed visibly once he had an explanation, and knew Jemma wasn’t looking for an excuse to get them apart. “Yeah, Bob can stay.” He grinned at his wife. “You lot already know how much she hurts me on a daily basis.” Bobbi leaned forward to whack him on his leg. “Case in point.” Lance said smugly. Jemma smiled.

The doctor went through the same spiel as she had with Bobbi, asking about lifestyle and then doing a test of his various vitals and ranges of motion, though she was exceptionally careful when it came time to test his elbows and wrists. When it came time to do Lance’s blood draw, Jemma seemed conflicted. The burns on his arms didn’t extend all the way up to the elbow, but they were close, and she seemed to be debating whether the draw was worth the effort.

“Best do it, love.” Hunter said after Jemma had spent a moment staring at the inside of his elbow. “You, ah, might want to see the results.”

Jemma narrowed her eyes at him. “Don’t tell me you’re pregnant, too.”

Bobbi blanched, but Lance let out a quick bark of laughter. “I haven’t got a uterus, that I’m aware of.” He answered. “But I was under the impression that Terrigenesis changed your blood?” Lance half-asked, half-said.

Jemma looked like she was ready to faint. She let out a deep breath. “You’re an Inhuman?” Lance nodded, and Bobbi tried not to look sheepish when the doctor glared at her. It hadn’t been her story to tell, and even if it had been, Jemma had never asked about anything even vaguely related to Inhumans, so Bobbi considered herself blameless. “The pair of you are trying to kill me.” Simmons muttered to herself. “Haven’t even back for two weeks, and you’re already trying to kill me.” Neither one of them was pulling off a chastised look well, Bobbi knew.

Jemma continued muttering mutinously as she took Lance’s blood. “You’re going to have to report it to the director, you know.” She informed them.

“If we can ever get him to talk to us.” Bobbi said, not bothering to hide the disdain in her voice.

Jemma gave Bobbi a sympathetic glance, but the blonde had a feeling her friend was hiding something from her, probably about whatever the hell was happening to Coulson.

“Let me take a look at those burns, and then you can fill out the questionnaires.” Jemma said. “Mental health, and then one for your Inhuman abilities.” Even if the Sokovia Accords had been rolled back, S.H.I.E.L.D. still kept a record of all of the Inhumans they encountered; Bobbi had no doubt that Hunter would need to have a presence on that list before he would be permitted to be taken on as an agent again.

After Jemma had inspected Lance’s burns more thoroughly, she began discussing what had happened to cause them. Bobbi tuned out, mostly because she wasn’t sure she wanted to know what kind of horrors her husband had been through while they were separated. She only began listening again when the doctor began to discuss treatment – and especially so at the last thing Jemma had to say. “…and I would suggest refraining from sexual activity.”

“There go our afternoon plans, Bob.” Lance said somewhat sadly. Jemma made a choking noise. Bobbi hadn’t heard the entire reasoning behind the lack of sex, but she assumed it had something to do with the fact that Lance’s arms were now loosely wrapped in bandages, from the joint in his elbow all the way to the tips of his fingers. Lance couldn’t use his fingers even if he wanted to. His mouth would be more than enough to compensate, but Bobbi didn’t want to push it. Worse came to worse they could always disregard the doctor’s advice; it wouldn’t be the first time.

Lance’s bandaged hands made it difficult for him to use the stylus that accompanied Jemma’s tablet, so he shifted so he was in the seat next to Bobbi and dictated his answers to her under Jemma’s watchful eyes. The Inhuman Registry form was more complex, and neither had ever seen it before, so it took them longer to get through. After what felt like an eternity, they handed the tablet back to Jemma, form complete.

“Life force sensitivity?” Jemma asked, obviously confused by the wording.

Hunter shrugged. “It’s like… when I close my eyes, people are these little lights. If I’ve met someone before, I can tell which light theirs is.” It was a simple explanation, but those were the basics of what Jemma needed to know. Bobbi, of course, knew more of Lance’s abilities, but that was because she had been the one to help him discover most of them. Jemma nodded her acceptance, so both Bobbi and Lance stood to leave.

“Actually,” Jemma interrupted their exit, “If you wanted to, Bobbi, we could just do your next appointment now.” Bobbi blinked once before realizing what Jemma meant. The doctor had said she wanted to see Bobbi for another prenatal appointment to make sure the stress of transitioning to be a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent again wasn’t negatively affecting the baby, among other things.

Bobbi looked at Lance, who met her gaze. “Your call, love.” He said, nudging her shoulder with his in lieu of a hand squeeze. Bobbi looked back at Jemma, and then nodded slowly, climbing onto the exam table Lance had abandoned.

As Jemma had said earlier, it had been less than two weeks since Bobbi had returned to the Playground, but those two weeks had seen the end of Bobbi’s first trimester. Morning sickness hadn’t been a problem for her, but Jemma explained that if she had been feeling nauseous, the symptoms would have probably started to subside. “Food aversions should also begin to go away. Daisy’s informed me that peanut butter is your only substantial aversion?”

Bobbi nodded. There hadn’t been anything else that she had run into that made her feel the same way as peanut butter – that was, mildly queasy for no explicable reason.

“Then you should have no problems gaining weight.” Jemma said pointedly. Bobbi didn’t look away as the doctor glared. She knew Jemma didn’t think she’d been eating enough, and she was probably right, but _still_. Everything would be easier now that Lance was back, Bobbi told herself. “From this point on, you should be gaining about a pound a week.” Jemma informed her. 

“Don’t worry, Jem. I’ll feed her.” Lance said. Bobbi glared at him, and he shrugged. It was true that she enjoyed Lance’s cooking, but she was not enjoying the assumption that she needed to be looked after like an invalid.

Bobbi pulled up her shirt as Jemma continued to talk about what else to expect for the next few weeks. Their next official appointment, Jemma said as she put the gel on Bobbi’s stomach, would be at the twentieth week, to check the baby’s anatomy.

“We don’t want to know the baby’s sex.” Bobbi informed Jemma as Lance nodded.

“We want a nice surprise for once.” Lance added. They had decided as much almost as soon as they had found out that she was pregnant.

Jemma accepted the announcement easily enough. “Just remind me again when we’re at that appointment.” She said brightly as she moved the wand across Bobbi’s stomach. “Are you ready?” Jemma asked. Bobbi twitched her head in a nod, barely daring to move.

Jemma moved the screen of the machine around, and Bobbi stared. The image wasn’t high-resolution, but Bobbi didn’t care. She reached her hand out for her husband, not tearing her gaze away from the image. The background was black, but in a sea of silver and white there was the outline of a baby – with a tiny head and a little rounded stomach and two blurs that looked like arms, and another two for legs. Bobbi felt a soft squeeze on the hand Lance had taken, and she squeezed back, still slightly breathless. “That’s our baby.” She said numbly.

“That’s our baby.” Bobbi heard Lance agree. A moment later there was a pulse of warm breath on her hand, and the press of rough lips against her knuckles. Bobbi wanted to kiss Lance back, to tell him that she was so happy that he was there (there was no way she could have done this alone), but she couldn’t. She couldn’t move or look away. She felt like she was floating in space, like there was nothing else in the world but her and the baby on the screen.

“It’s inside me.” She said. Everything that she had done for the past two months had been in protection of this tiny thing inside of her, and in that moment, it all felt so real, like a weight pressing down on her chest. Lance squeezed her hand again, and she was finally able to rip her gaze away from the screen to look at her husband. “Lance, that’s –” Her voice caught in her throat, and she could see her husband’s eyes shining. He just nodded, seeming to understand her inability to speak.

“Do you want to hear the heartbeat?” Jemma asked quietly. Bobbi nodded before she realized that she was moving.

The noise that filled the room was simultaneously alien and intimately familiar. _Wub-wub-wub-wub-wub-wub_. Bobbi had heard an echo of the same sound before in the nights when she had fallen asleep with her ear pressed against Lance’s chest, but it was so different now. The sound was rushed, the beats stumbling over each other like they were too eager to wait for their predecessor to finish. It was beautiful.

Bobbi didn’t know how long she and Lance were in the stupor, staring at each other as the sound of their child’s heartbeat filled the small room, but it felt like the whole of time and had been molded to fit that moment.

Everything was broken when the sound stopped, followed by Jemma’s gentle voice saying that she was printing out some photos that they could take with them. Lance was the one to wipe the gel off her stomach when Jemma handed Bobbi a towel, because Bobbi was still far, far away. He tugged her gentle to her feet and Bobbi followed wherever he led her, still too dazed to do anything else.

Lance sat her down on the bed of their bunk, and then sat down beside her. Bobbi leaned into him, relishing the warmth of his presence even if she still couldn’t quite find words. His arm wrapped around her waist, and then somehow, she was in his lap instead of beside him. She did not mind that development at all.

Bobbi snaked her hand underneath Lance’s shirt, pressing her palm against his sternum so she could feel his heart against her hand. “I love this heart.” Bobbi murmured. She hated sounding like a cheesy romance novel, but she had just seen her child’s heart beating inside of her, and she couldn’t help but thinking of all the other hearts she loved.

“And I love this one.” Lance said, tapping the center of her chest with his bandaged finger. He kissed her forehead gently. “Are you alright, love?”

Bobbi nodded. “I just can’t believe it’s really real.” She told him, curling deeper into his warmth. She was dimly aware of the fact that Lance’s chest had been horribly bruised when she had seen him naked the night before, and that she should be careful with him, but he didn’t seem to be in pain. It was likely, Bobbi thought, that if he was hurting he wouldn’t let her know until he was sure that she was fine first.

“There’s a baby in there.” Bobbi could hear the shake in her own voice. “I am pregnant.” How many times had she declared that in the last two weeks? Why was it only now feeling real?

“There is. You are.” Lance affirmed. “Tell me what you’re feeling?”

“I don’t know.” She answered honestly. Even if she did know, she couldn’t articulate it. “But I do know I want to stay here with you.” She was afraid of what would happen if he left.

“I can do that.” He said.

“Can we sleep?” Bobbi asked, voice small. She had only been awake for a couple of hours, but they had been exhausting. Bobbi felt like someone had scooped her insides out – like she was hollow.

“Yeah. Yeah, Bob, we can.” Lance eased them both into a reclining position, her still half on top of him. Even though the room was warm, Bobbi slipped underneath the sheets of their bed, and pulled Lance closer so she could tuck her head under his chin.

“Is it alright if I touch your stomach?” Lance asked quietly.

“Yeah.” She paused. “Unless I tell you not to, you can.” Bobbi wasn’t a fan of the idea of her body becoming public property when her stomach began to show, but it was _Lance_. Physical boundaries had never been much of their thing anyways, but if she wasn’t so tired Bobbi would have been touched that he thought to ask.

He tugged up the hem of her shirt just enough so that he could slide his hand beneath it, and Bobbi made a soft sighing noise as the bandages rubbed against her stomach. They weren’t abrasive, but the sensation was new. The weight of his palm felt like it was grounding her. Bobbi placed her hand on top of her husband’s, holding it in place so she didn’t float off into whatever strange headspace she had been in when she stared at the picture of their baby.

“Go to sleep, Bobbi.” He whispered into her hair.

_Where have I heard that before?_ Bobbi thought, before she was asleep in her husband’s arms again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Tuesday y'all! Hunter is finally back - yay! In addition to continuing to write this fic I have many plot bunnies for another multi-chap story, so if you'd like to offer your opinions, I have something post on my [tumblr](https://huntxngbxrd.tumblr.com/) about it.
> 
> Also, quick note: next week I'll be taking two exams on Tuesday and preparing to move out of my dorm room, so the update will be posted on Monday, instead. :)


	7. i'll build my road

When Bobbi woke up the next morning, she felt truly hungry for the first time since she had parted ways with her husband. She told him as much, and they made their way to the kitchen, still wearing pajamas and with their hair mussed with sleep.

Bobbi hadn’t realized how early they woke up until she realized the kitchen was empty, and not just because it had already been vacated. She began working on setting up the coffee pot and a tea kettle, so that when the rest of the base awakened their preferred sources of caffeine would be available. While she was measuring coffee grounds, Lance was rummaging around in the fridge.

“What do I have to do to get put on a supply run?” He asked, emerging with a mildly disgusted look on his face. “I don’t understand why there are more cans of Easy Cheese than there are cartons of milk.” Bobbi didn’t even know that Easy Cheese had to be refrigerated, so there was more than one revelation in that sentence.

“I’m sure I can tell Jemma that I have to go grocery shopping to satisfy my cravings.” Bobbi said with a devious smile. “Then we can get real food.”

Lance laughed and leaned over to peck her lips. “I knew there was a reason I married you.” He teased. “Though it’s still not a bad idea. Even if nothing strikes your fancy now, who knows about the future.” Bobbi shook her head as she finished putting on the coffee.

“I don’t want special treatment.” She said as she began measuring out water for the tea kettle. “Not going out in the field is already bad enough. I don’t want to be waited on hand and foot.” Bobbi set the kettle down on the stove and turned to face her husband, leaning against the counter as she did so.

Lance inclined her head towards her. “Might be true for the rest of them, love, but doting on you is in my job description.” He finally finished with his refrigerator inspection, and, like Bobbi, seemed to have realized eggs were the only edible thing. “How do you want your eggs done?” He asked. Bobbi shrugged; she felt like she had eaten so many eggs in the last two weeks that no matter how they were cooked they would just be _egg_.

“Over hard, then.” He declared. “And when I find a way to get to a grocery store, we can get the ingredients for a proper fry-up.” Bobbi hummed her approval of that plan. Even if being on the run sometimes meant they had to skip meals, when they had the time to sit down and eat something satisfying, Lance always did an amazing job. Having a full English breakfast would be nice, and more than that, a reminder that things were better than they were before.

About halfway through the frying of the eggs, Bobbi realized that toast might be another passable breakfast food. She had been avoiding eating toast in general, since Jemma always asked her if she was nauseous if she ate anything even vaguely starchy, but now things were different. Hunter was back now, and Bobbi was certain he was going to take his role of the only person who could dote on her seriously.

After finding the bread, Bobbi went looking for the toaster. It had obviously not been used in a very long while, and Bobbi wondered if people on the base even ate breakfast, and if so, what the hell they were eating if not toast.

“Toast?” She asked her husband. He nodded, and Bobbi set two pieces of bread in the toaster.

“I have a meeting with Coulson today.” Lance said as he flipped the eggs over.

“How’d you manage that?” Bobbi asked, ambling closer to her husband. She was still trying to shake the effects that the long-term separation had had on her and falling into Lance’s gravity once or twice that day seemed inevitable.

He wrapped his arm around her waist and kissed her temple, but before he could respond to her question the kitchen door creaked open, sounding as miserable as the person who shuffled in looked.

“Hmmmph. Domesticity.” Daisy grumbled as she shuffled into the room. She let out a long yawn.

“There’s coffee in the pot.” Bobbi offered, amused.

“D’you want eggs?” Hunter asked. Daisy made a noise that fell short of being an answer, and Lance gave Bobbi a small smile as he rolled his eyes.

Lance ended up making a second batch of eggs anyways, not wanting Daisy to go hungry if her non-verbal answer had been intended to be a yes. Bobbi ate her egg with slow, precise bites, waiting for Daisy to suck down her first cup of coffee.

A plate of scrambled eggs was placed in front of Daisy when she was halfway through her second cup off coffee, and she looked at Hunter with a slightly shocked look on her face. “I thought you were kidding.” She said, picking up the fork that Lance had been so kind to provide. “Wait, there’s toast, too!?” Daisy asked. That seemed to perk her up even more than the coffee had. “I thought we lost the toaster!”

Bobbi and Lance both laughed at that. “Nope, you definitely have a toaster.” Bobbi slid the second piece of toast over to Daisy while Lance put more bread in the distinctly not-lost appliance.

“Man, Bobbi, if you’re not careful, I’m just going to steal your husband. He makes breakfast now!” Daisy said. Apparently, food was all she needed to be won over. Bobbi would keep that in mind for when she was trying to get Daisy and Robbie together.

Bobbi rolled her eyes. “As tempting as that is sometimes, I think I’ll keep him.” Lance snorted from his position at the stove, and Bobbi bated her eyelashes at him, the picture of innocence. “Besides, if you steal my husband, you won’t ever be able to take Robbie on a date.”

Daisy groaned and banged her forehead against the table. “When are you going to give that up?” She asked.

“Probably never.” Bobbi said. She heard Lance let out another chuckle and sent a fond look in his direction.

“Hey! Stop making eyes at him!” Daisy said, sitting up again. “I did not sign up for this. I do not want Fitzsimmons two-point-oh!”

“Technically,” Bobbi said, “Fitzsimmons is Morse-Hunter two-point-oh. We were here first.” Not technically, since Fitz and Simmons had joined Coulson’s team first, but Bobbi had married Lance for the first time long before Fitz and Simmons admitted their feelings for each other – ergo, they were first.

Daisy glared. “Not helping. And also, you need a better ship name. Morse-Hunter is _not_ a good ship name.”

“Excuse us for not having surnames that lend themselves to a portmanteau.” Bobbi muttered. “Besides, Morse-Hunter is going to be our kid’s last name. Are you really going to tell your pregnant friend that her kid’s last name sounds stupid?” She pouted.

“You wouldn’t actually cry.” Daisy said, meeting Bobbi’s eyes.

Bobbi stared back defiantly. “Wouldn’t I?” She asked, forcing herself to tear up.

“Okay, uncle!” Daisy said, throwing her hands up in the air. “Hunter, come wrangle your wife!”

“Sorry, love, but ‘wrangling’ is not in my husband duties.” Hunter said as he slid the last of the eggs from the pan onto a plate. “I get yelled at if I try to wrangle.”

“You do not.” Bobbi retorted, even though he was definitely right. Lance sat next to her at the kitchen table, and Bobbi frowned at the bandages on his hands. “Are you going to be okay eating?”

“Course.” Lance responded. “I made the eggs just fine, Bob. I’ll be able to eat them, too.” He picked up a fork and began scooping the eggs up, albeit clumsily, to prove his point.

“Oh! Bobbi!” Daisy said, standing up abruptly. “I have something for you!” She bounded over to some hidden corner in the room and came back with something in her hands. With a flourish, Daisy set a newspaper down on the table. “So you can do the crossword.” She said with a beaming smile.

Bobbi looked up at Daisy, feeling like someone had turned her heart into mush. She really hoped she didn’t start crying for real. “Thank you.”

“It’s a little late – from two days ago – but I figure crosswords don’t really have a time limit.” Daisy said with a shrug. Hunter pulled the paper towards them and flipped to the crossword near the back. He let out a little chuckle.

“What?” Daisy and Bobbi asked simultaneously.

“It was Mother’s Day.” Hunter said, jabbing his finger at the title of the crossword – ‘A Very Happy Mother’s Day’. It was not a good title, in Bobbi’s opinion. “I can’t believe I missed your first Mother’s Day as a mum!”

“How _ever_ will I forgive you?” Bobbi asked, rolling her eyes. “Really, it barely even counts. We hadn’t even seen the baby then.”

Hunter made a soft noise but didn’t push the matter. He glanced at the crossword, then back at Bobbi. “Much as I’d like to stay, love, I don’t want to be late to this meeting.” He pressed a soft kiss to Bobbi’s cheek before standing, but she stood up, too.

She planted a hand on his shoulder and gave him a _look_. “Don’t be a smartass to Coulson, okay?”

“Me? A smartass? Never.” Hunter said, cracking a smile. Daisy snorted at that.

“Seriously, Hunter.” Bobbi said, intensifying the look in hopes of keeping him in line. “He’s been acting really weird, and I don’t want you to get hurt because he won’t deal with whatever his issue is.” She cupped her husband’s face in her hands and pulled out her trump card. “If not for me, then for the baby.”

Lance made a noise of defeat. “Fine. I’ll try not to be a sarcastic arsehole to Coulson.”

Bobbi leaned forward to kiss him softly. “Thank you.” She tapped his face with her hands. “Now, march, soldier.”

“Yes ma’am.” Lance saluted before leaving the kitchen.

Bobbi moved back to sit at the kitchen table and finish the mug of tea that Lance had left half-drank. Daisy grinned at her like the cat that got the canary. “You have him _whipped_.” She said with a laugh.

Bobbi shrugged. “I’m strategic in my word choice.” She said. Daisy laughed again at that.

“I think you could probably get him to take down the government if you insisted it was ‘for the baby’.” Daisy said. “Speaking of, you mentioned not having seen the baby? Did that change?”

Bobbi felt a pleasant flush creep up her cheeks. “Yeah, it did. We have a picture; I can show it to you later, if you want.” She took a long draught of tea while she waited for the heat to fade. “I’m surprised Lance hasn’t shown the whole base by now. He couldn’t have slept the whole time I did.”

“This is the first time I’ve seen him.” Daisy offered. “So it’s possible that he just stayed in your bunk, even if he wasn’t asleep.”

Bobbi nodded at that. She and Daisy lapsed into silence, sipping their drinks quietly as the rest of the base began to stir awake.

Fitz and Simmons were the next to enter the kitchen, murmuring a conversation that had a cadence of an argument. Judging by the smiles on their faces, the argument wasn’t anything serious. If Bobbi had to guess, it was probably about the flavor of wedding cake or something equally ridiculous.

“Just what I need. More domesticity.” Daisy grumbled. “Earth to Fitzsimmons!” She said, waving her hands when the scientists still hadn’t acknowledged her and Bobbi’s presence. Jemma said one more thing to Fitz before raising her hand in a wave.

“Bobbi! Have you seen Hunter?” Fitz was wringing his hands nervously, and Bobbi just raised her eyebrows at him. That was kind of a dumb question.

“He left for a meeting with Coulson about ten minutes ago.” She answered. Fitz frowned.

“I’ve been telling him that he shouldn’t be so nervous.” Jemma said from the counter, where she was pouring out water for two cups of tea. “He’s going to say yes, isn’t he?” She asked Bobbi. The look that Jemma gave her clearly told Bobbi that she _had_ to agree with Jemma’s statement, no matter what.

“He’ll say yes.” She parroted. “And if he doesn’t, then he’ll have a very angry wife to deal with.”

“Hold on just a damn second.” Mack said, strolling in through the door with brighter eyes than Elena, who was trailing after him. “You got married to Hunter and I missed the invite _again_?” Bobbi shrugged. It wasn’t her fault that she had eloped, twice.

“Maybe we’ll get married a third time.” She said, stretching and then standing.

“And not invite me again.” Mack said mutinously.

Bobbi just chuckled. “Anyone want eggs? Or want to give me an explanation as to why eggs are the only breakfast food you have?” There were many, many sheepish looks and a few mutters that Bobbi interpreted to mean that no one ate breakfast – or if they did, they were content with eating eggs every. Damn. Day. Didn’t May eat breakfast? She seemed like the breakfast type. Did she just eat eggs?

“Sit down.” Jemma said when Bobbi made her way over to the stove to put on more eggs.

“Jemma, you know as well as I do that I can stand while pregnant.” Bobbi said with a huff as she picked up the spatula. “I’ve already told Daisy that I cannot stand being smothered.” Daisy, for her part, hadn’t done anything remotely smothering in the past twenty minutes, keeping true to her promise about laying off once Hunter was back in the picture. Jemma looked properly chastised.

Bobbi didn’t have any more time in which to be indignant because a familiar scent was in the air. Peanut butter. Her stomach twisted and heaved, and Bobbi closed her eyes against the roiling feeling. “I’m going to go.” She announced abruptly, not wasting time in seeing who had peanut butter with them or why. She lurched out of the kitchen, slamming the door behind her to keep the scent from chasing her into the hallway.

She stood outside the door for a long minute, trying to figure out whether she was going to vomit. Bobbi drew in deep breaths through her nose to try to ward off the nausea, but she couldn’t quite chase all of it away.

“Hey.” Hunter’s voice was soft as he rested his hand on her shoulder. She didn’t know where he had come from, but Bobbi was glad he was there. “You alright?” She figured she looked a little green around the gills, and that was why he was asking.

Bobbi still didn’t trust herself to open her mouth, so she jerked her head in a nod – though she supposed the fact that she wouldn’t talk was probably more of an answer than the lie she had just told. Hunter didn’t do anything – didn’t try to hug her or ask her any more questions – but his mere presence was enough to calm the last of the waves in Bobbi’s stomach.

“Shouldn’t you be in your meeting?” She asked quietly once she believed she wouldn’t throw up the moment her mouth was open.

“It was short.” He answered quickly. “M’glad I got back when I did.” Lance brushed a strand of her hair behind her ear.

“I thought Jemma said it was supposed to get better.” Bobbi said, unable to keep the whine from creeping into her voice as she inched closer to Lance. “It hasn’t been that bad before.”

Lance shrugged. “I haven’t got a clue how any of this works, love.” He said, slinging an arm around her shoulders. “I’m probably not the one to ask.”

“Hmph.” Bobbi said, burying her nose into Lance’s neck. He smelled nice, and her stomach settled further.

“We could just ban peanut butter.” Lance said. Bobbi considered laughing for a moment, but she knew he was serious.

“It’s fine.” She answered. “Maybe it was just that I didn’t expect it.” Now that she was thinking about it, Bobbi knew that peanut butter toast was a popular breakfast staple for many of the agents. Since the toaster had been liberated from its hiding spot, it was likely that someone would want the treat, even if Bobbi couldn’t think about it as a treat without gagging a little.

“Bobbi, can we talk?” Lance asked after a minute of silence.

“Of course, teacup.” She said. Bobbi removed her head from the crook of her husband’s shoulder, studying him. His eyes were worried, and the corners of her mouth twisted down. “What’s wrong?” Bobbi asked.

“We should do this… not here.” Lance said, and Bobbi remembered that they were just outside the kitchen, and she was still in her pajamas. She was surprised that no one had chased after her after her sudden departure, but also glad that they were beginning to take her protests about being treated with kid gloves to heart. “It’s nothing about you.” Lance assured her, though Bobbi hadn’t been worried about that, not with the timing of his subject change.

Bobbi didn’t press further until they were safe within the confines of their bunk. She leaned against the door, her eyebrow raised questioningly. Her husband was already pacing, obviously agitated

“If anyone asks, I didn’t tell you this.” Lance started. That was _never_ a good way to start. “My meeting didn’t actually end early. I kind of… ran off.” He admitted. That made much more sense than Coulson calling Hunter in only to speak for ten minutes, Bobbi thought.

“Coulson’s dying.” The words sounded like someone had ripped them out of Lance’s throat, rather than him choosing to say them. Bobbi closed her eyes and nodded. It made sense – he had been obviously ill, and he was avoiding his team, and really, she was disappointed in herself for not figuring it out earlier. “Bobbi, he wants me to fix him.” Bobbi’s eyes snapped open again. Lance had stopped pacing. He was standing in the middle of the room, looking at her with wide, lost eyes.

“Can you do that?” She asked cautiously.

“I don’t know!” Lance said, panic rising in his voice as quick, shallow breaths slid out of his mouth. “That’s the problem! They want me to, but Bob, I don’t even know if it’s possible, or what it would do to me, and –” Bobbi crossed to where he was, grabbing one of her husband’s hands in hers as gently as she could.

“Deep breath.” She told him quietly. She watched Lance’s chest heave upwards, then compress slowly. “Again.” She commanded. He complied. Bobbi kept commanding him to take deep breaths until he wasn’t hyperventilating anymore.

Lance rested his forehead against her shoulder, and Bobbi curled her hand around his neck, holding him in place. “What if I try, and I mess up?” Lance asked, voice muffled but still audible. “What if I can’t do it at all? I’ve never tried changing someone’s life force before. What if I –” He didn’t finish the sentence, letting out a long breath of air through his nose.

“What if you go blind again?” She asked gently. That had been a terrifying side effect of his powers that neither of them had anticipated. Lance nodded, and Bobbi made a soft noise of comfort.  
  
“If you’re so worried, what’s keeping you from saying no?” Bobbi asked quietly.

“As much of a shock as this may come to you, I don’t like killing people.” Hunter snapped, drawing back from her with one long, unstable step. He closed his eyes and pressed the heels of his hands against the backs of them. “I’m sorry. Shit, I’m sorry, you didn’t deserve that, I’m just…” Once again, he failed to finish his sentence. Bobbi crossed her arms over her chest, evaluating him. She knew he had just said what he had because he was frustrated (with the situation and with himself) but she was afraid that they were falling back into old patterns – snapping instead of speaking.

“If it was just me, I would say yes, no questions asked.” Lance said, shuffling forward again as he reached out a hand for Bobbi. She took it cautiously. “But it’s not just me.” Bobbi nodded. It wasn’t just her, or just him, or just them. They had another, albeit very tiny, person to think about. “Bobbi, if Coulson dies…” Lance trailed off, but tugged her closer, wrapping his arms around her waist. “If Coulson dies.” He repeated. “Then May becomes director, and I get booted from the base.”

“She wouldn’t do that.” Bobbi said, wishing she was more convincing.

“If I didn’t even try to save him? Or worse, if I was the one who killed him? Yeah, she would.” Lance replied. Bobbi couldn’t argue with that, much as she wanted to believe that May would be more level-headed than that.

“If you go, I go.” Bobbi declared.

“Bob, the whole reason we did this was so that you’d be safe. So that the baby would be safe.” Lance reminded her. “I wouldn’t let you come with me.”

“Good thing it’s not your choice, then.” She replied, heat creeping into her voice. She pulled back from her husband, looking him in the eye. “Lance, I don’t know what the hell I’m doing. Ask me to do literally anything else on my own, and I’ll do it. But I can’t do this without you.” Bobbi hated the way her voice was climbing in pitch, the tightness in her chest and the warmth in her face. She hated feeling like she was about to cry. And most of all, she hated that she couldn’t do this on her own. She was vulnerable in a way that she never had been before, holding someone else’s life inside of her. Maybe other people could do this alone, but they were stronger than Bobbi was. “I _need_ you.”

Lance’s lips were against hers in an instant, warm and familiar. Bobbi relaxed into the kiss, into the gentleness of his bandaged fingers on her skin and the way his body curved against hers. Bobbi didn’t need to think about anything for a moment – she just let herself be swept away with the feeling that she was loved by the man in front of her.

He pulled back, looking at her intently. “Whatever happens, we go together, then.” He told her. Bobbi nodded, then wandered over to the bed to sit, feeling heavy.

“That’s still not a decision.” She reminded Lance.

He moved towards her, but stopped short of sitting on the bed, instead kneeling in front of her. “I think it is.” He told her. She blinked down at him, waiting for an explanation. “If I don’t try, and Coulson dies – and he _will_ die, I think – then I have to leave the base. You come with me, and we’re back where we started, on the run and with a baby on the way.”

Bobbi sighed, but nodded. She leaned forward to kiss Lance’s forehead. “Just promise me that you won’t do anything stupid.”

He cracked a smile. “Darlin’, I can never promise that.” He teased. Against her will, Bobbi’s lower lip began to tremble as another sick rush of sadness swept through her. “Hey, hey.” Lance said, voice soft but urgent. “I was kidding. Don’t cry, Bob.” He moved closer, nudging her legs open so he was between them. She bent down, wrapping her arms around his shoulders in an awkward hug.

“I don’t know what’s going to happen, but I know that at the end of it, I’ll be back here.” He assured her. “Can’t die without defiling some surface in the base at least once, right?” A watery chuckle burbled out of Bobbi, and she straightened, releasing Lance.

“The next time I start crying, slap me.” Bobbi muttered, wiping underneath her eyes. “I _hate_ hormones.”

“Yeah, well, you hate me too.” Lance said with a smirk. Bobbi shook her head – that wasn’t true, and he knew it. “At least you’re only stuck with the hormones for another seven months.”

“Don’t remind me.” Bobbi moaned. “Why couldn’t I have gotten the horny hormones? Or even the angry ones? Why do I have to get the cry-all-the-time hormones?” She complained.

“Trust me, I wish you had gotten the horny hormones, too.” Lance said. Bobbi smacked him but smiled.

“You should probably go tell Coulson you decided.” Bobbi said after a moment of quiet. “And Fitz is looking for you, too.” She added as an afterthought.

“Will you come with me?” Lance asked. He paused. “That bit you said about needing me?” He began. “I need you too, Bob. And I know I’m not the best at saying it –”

“Lance Hunter, do _not_ make me cry again.” Bobbi said, already sniffling. “I know you love me, stupid. I wouldn’t have married you – twice, I may add – if I didn’t think you loved me. I wouldn’t be having your kid if I didn’t _know_ you loved me.” She pulled him up to press a hard kiss against his lips. “If you want me, I’ll be there.”

“I want you.” Lance answered instantly. “I always want you.” Bobbi growled a little – that was getting dangerously close to feelings territory again. Lance held up his bandaged hands in defeat. “Okay, I’ll shut up now.” He said, smiling again.

He stood up, and it took a fair bit of self-control for Bobbi not to pull him into another hug. She thought it was a testament to the ways their relationship had changed that they hadn’t ended up yelling at each other about something unrelated to the problem at hand despite the minor bump in the middle. They were so… functional. Bobbi pushed the word domestic out of her head, because she didn’t want Daisy to be right. Or, rather, she didn’t want herself to be right about the picket fence and two-point-five kids, because that was a _lot_ to think about still.

After Bobbi had changed into real clothes, Lance led them back to Coulson’s office, opening the door without knocking. The director appeared to have been waiting for Hunter to come back. Lance sat down in the single chair in front of Coulson’s desk, and Bobbi moved to stand behind him. Coulson didn’t comment on her presence, and Bobbi didn’t bother to try to explain it.

“I’ll do it.” Lance said without preamble. “She stays.” He said, leaning back against Bobbi.

“Excellent.” Coulson’s breath rattled in his chest. “Now?”

“Now.” Lance affirmed with a nod. And so, it began.

\---

Bobbi honestly couldn’t have said what happened in the office. She knew that Lance had closed his eyes and Coulson had closed his, and there had been two hours of total silence. At one point she was pretty sure that Coulson had stopped breathing, but everything had happened on a level that she couldn’t see or feel. Bobbi was just there – more of a visitor than a witness.

When both the men opened their eyes again, things were different. Coulson’s eyes no longer looked like unpolished pebbles; they shone with a light Bobbi hadn’t realized had been missing until it was restored.  Lance’s eyes weren’t their normal brown. They were blazing gold, just as they had right after he had gone through Terrigenesis. Bobbi didn’t need to ask if it had worked; it had. She didn’t know _how_ , and doubted she ever would, but it had worked.

Hunter stood up, but as soon as he did his knees began to buckle. Bobbi caught him before he could fall, slinging his arm around her shoulders so she could hold him up. “Sir.” Bobbi said, nodding at Coulson before half-leading, half-dragging her husband through the corridors back to their bedroom.

Lance all but collapsed onto the bed, sprawling out with a loud groan. “Too bright.” He said. Bobbi flicked off the lights, and Hunter let out another groan, this one more satisfied than annoyed.

Bobbi nudged Hunter over so she could sit on the bed beside him, stretching her legs out as she rested her back against the headboard. “You okay, honey?” Bobbi asked, running her fingers through his hair.

“Yeah.” Lance answered sluggishly. “M’head hurts, and m’tired, but…”

“But you did it.” Bobbi finished. She smiled at her husband even though he was still face-down on the bed. “I’m so proud of you, sweetheart.” Lance rolled over until he was on top of Bobbi’s lap. He looked up at her for a moment, his burnished gold eyes disorienting her more than she’d like to admit.

“Jus’ did what I had to do.” He slurred. Bobbi smiled at him, trying to hide her amusement at the way he was acting. He was acting differently than he normally did when he was tired, but it was kind of cute.

“You still did something that no one else has.” Bobbi assumed that Coulson’s first course of action for curing whatever the hell had been ailing him wasn’t to ask a new Inhuman with nebulous abilities to fix him.

“Not the first time.” Lance said, smiling dopily. “No one else put a baby in you.”

Bobbi chuckled at the strange wording. “That’s right.” Lance pulled himself up further so the tip of his nose was pushed against her stomach. He pressed his lips against the fabric of her shirt, and then scooted back over to his side of the bed.

“Make sure you eat lunch.” Lance told her drowsily. He shut his eyes before he could see Bobbi’s nod.

“Sleep well, teacup.” She said quietly.

Bobbi didn’t know it at the time, but it was the last good sleep he was going to get in a while.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> guys i know i said monday but i literally had this entire chapter formatted and ready to post before realizing it is not, in fact, monday
> 
> i'm so sorry i have no concept of time, more of my energy is from caffeine than sleep
> 
> finals are killing me
> 
> take this chapter as an apology


	8. despite the cost

Lance didn’t wake up for lunch or dinner – he slept straight through until the next morning. Bobbi occupied the time by finally asking Jemma about working in the lab. They decided on a project for Bobbi to work on, which put her at ease. If she couldn’t be in the field, then she wanted be doing something other than sitting around incubating a child. After they had talked about that, Bobbi went back to her sleeping husband, and Jemma went to her non-sleeping soon-to-be-husband to talk about more wedding details.

By the time Lance woke up the next morning, the gold that had flared up in his eyes had died down to a tawny shade that looked more natural, even if it still made Bobbi uncomfortable with its unfamiliarity. They were sitting at the kitchen table after breakfast, working together on the Mother’s Day crossword, when Bobbi’s phone buzzed. Lance reached for it while Bobbi finished writing in the solution to the clue (cardamom), passing the phone to her when she set the pen down. Bobbi didn’t recognize the number but answered the call anyways.

“Hello?” She asked.

“Hey, Bobbi, it’s Nat.” Right – Bobbi had given her number to the Avengers when she had gone on her liaison visit so that they could contact her, if need be.

Bobbi was hoping this was just a social call, but she had a feeling that wasn’t the case. “Hey. What’s up?” She asked, deciding to cut straight to the chase.

“It’s Clint.” Natasha let out a sigh. “He left on a mission right after we met with you, and he’s missed two check-ins in a row. Stark is out looking for him, but we could really use S.H.I.E.L.D.’s resources on this.”

“Yeah, yeah, of course.” Bobbi said, even though she had no authority by which to make that promise. “Tell me everything you know.”

Natasha explained the mission Clint was on – reconnaissance on an ex-HYDRA member who had been buying a _lot_ of property – in addition to Clint’s last known whereabouts while tailing the man, and what Tony Stark had been doing to find him. The problem was that it had been so long since a check-in (almost a week) that the trail had gone cold, and Clint could be anywhere in the world. Tony had set up a hundred-mile radius around the last location and scoured it thoroughly, but found nothing.

“I’ll talk to the director and get back to you.” Bobbi said after Natasha had given her all the relevant information. Bobbi had scribbled most of it on the margins of a different section of the newspaper Daisy had brought, and she hoped it was enough to convince Coulson to send out a search team.

Bobbi hung up the phone and ran her hands through her hair. “What’s happening?” Lance asked her.

“Clint’s missing.” Bobbi said, squeezing her eyes shut. The amount of information she had just been dumped with was more than slightly overwhelming, and she was grappling with the reality of Clint being _missing_. Natasha hadn’t sounded horribly worried, but if the Avengers were asking for help… it definitely wasn’t a good situation, and it could quickly become dire. “Natasha wants S.H.I.E.L.D.’s help finding him.” That was the shortest version of the story, but Bobbi pushed the notes she had taken towards her husband to read.

After flicking his eyes over everything twice, Lance looked up at Bobbi. “I can do it.” He told her.

“What?” She asked, more by reflex than because of actual disbelief.

“Looking for Clint is basically like looking for a needle in a haystack, right?” Lance asked. Bobbi nodded. “I’m a magnet, Bobbi.” He said triumphantly.

“Hunter…” Bobbi began. She wanted to protest that his powers didn’t really work like that, but she knew that wasn’t her issue.

Lance frowned. “Why are you doing that? You only _Hunter_ me when something’s wrong.” Damnit. She knew that calling her husband by his first name was going to be a mistake someday.

Bobbi bit her lip. “I’m just worried about you. You really tired yourself out with the Coulson thing.” He had slept for nearly twenty hours straight, and he had only been in his head for two hours, tops. Finding Clint would take longer than that.

“And I slept it off.” Lance said earnestly. “I’m fine, Bobbi. I feel _great_.” His eyes flashed gold again, and Bobbi suppressed a shudder. “C’mon. Let me help.”

“That’s not my call, or yours.” Bobbi said. “We still need to talk to Coulson.” It was too soon after Coulson’s procedure (Bobbi didn’t have a better word for what had happened to fix the director) to see how being well again changed his behavior, but Bobbi had a feeling that if they went to his office, he would actually be there instead of hiding away.

“But if Coulson asks me?” Lance prompted.

“If Coulson asks you, then I won’t stop you.” Bobbi answered. Lance’s face fell again. “Lance, baby…” She began before realizing she didn’t know how the hell to finish that sentence. “I just want you to be safe. You already stretched yourself further than you ever have.” She felt like she was repeating herself and prepared to hear the same answer back – that Hunter was fine, and that he wanted to help.

She was a little surprised that that wasn’t what she heard. “Bob.” He leaned across the table to grab her hands with his. The bandages still wrapped around his arms were a poignant reminder as to just how short of a time it had been since he had been rescued from the Watchdogs. “If you really don’t want me to do this, I won’t. But I think – no, I _know_ I can find him.” Lance looked like he was debating saying something more. “You love Clint, Bobbi.”

She nodded her head slowly. For all of the time that had passed since they had really been _close_ , Bobbi knew there was no denying that Clint had a special place in her heart, as both a partner and a friend. “I love you too.” She asserted. “So don’t make me choose between you two, okay?” Bobbi was not about to ask her husband to sacrifice his health and sanity to find her ex-partner. If it came down to it, Bobbi knew she could choose between Clint and Lance without any hesitation.

Coulson was indeed in his office when the duo came to him. The grey hue that had plagued him had all but disappeared, and Bobbi couldn’t hear his breathing from across the room anymore. He was really _fixed_.

Bobbi explained the situation as succinctly as possible, handing over the notes. When she finished her spiel, she looked over at her husband, and then back at the director. “Hunter thinks that he can find Clint without having to send out a search party.” She said, hoping she wouldn’t regret the choice.

Coulson looked at her husband with appraising eyes. “Are you sure you’re up for that?” He asked. His tone of voice wasn’t skeptical – Bobbi supposed he had no reason to doubt Lance’s skills after what had happened the previous day.

Hunter jerked his head in a short nod. “I have to try.” He said firmly. Bobbi forced herself to keep from sighing. Her husband was a stupid, stubborn man – but his stubbornness was also one of the reasons she loved him.

“What do you need from me?” Coulson asked Hunter.

He considered the question. “A quiet, empty room. A map of the world, as large as you can get. A lot of caffeinated beverages and artificially-flavored snacks.” Lance paused. “And Bobbi, if I can have her.”

“Agent Morse?” Coulson said, turning to her.

Bobbi shrugged. “I can tell Jemma I need to delay my starting in the lab.” She agreed. She wasn’t sure why Lance needed her to find Clint, but that wasn’t something she wanted to bring up in front of the director.

“You’ve got it, then.” Coulson announced. “Let Natasha know we’re on it and keep me updated.”

\---

An hour later, Bobbi and Lance were in one of the interrogation rooms, a huge world map spread across the large metal table. Clint’s last check-in, at a small city in Peru, was marked in red. A pyramid of Red Bulls was stacked in the corner next to several bags of Doritos and gummy bears. Bobbi was certain they looked more like college students studying for a geography final than agents trying to find a missing person.

Lance was standing at the center of the table, his palms flat against the map as he rested his weight on his arms. “Okay.” Bobbi said, walking over to where he was standing so she could look over his shoulder. “Why am I here?”

“You know I can only recognize people I’ve met before.” Bobbi nodded. That shouldn’t have been a problem, though – Lance had met Clint before. “And it’s easier for me to find people I know well.” She nodded again, still not seeing where he was going with this. “You know Clint better than I do.” He continued. She was beginning to get an idea of what Lance was thinking.

“You think you can use me as… a magnifier?” Bobbi said, not sure what word was the best to describe her role in the system Lance had thought of.

He grinned at her. “Brilliant, right?” He asked. Bobbi had to admit, she never would have thought of the idea herself.

“Okay, so… what do I do?” Bobbi still was fuzzy on the finer points of how Lance’s powers worked, and it was difficult for him to explain.

“Sit here.” Lance said, pulling out a chair. “And I’ll sit here.” He pulled out another chair, plopping down. “Think about Clint, I guess, and I’ll do the rest.”

Bobbi sat down in the chair indicated for her, facing her husband. “You nervous?” Hunter asked, reading her expression.

Bobbi lifted her shoulder in a shrug. “We’re just… moving fast.” She answered, unwilling to repeat her worries about her husband overexerting himself for a third time. She had chosen to tell Coulson about Hunter’s ability to find Clint – she had agreed to this.

Hunter quirked his lips up in a comforting smile. “Faster we move, the faster we find him.” He told her.

“Yeah.” She agreed. “Let’s get started.”

Lance reached his hands out, settling the tips of his fingers against her temples. His eyes slid shut, and Bobbi closed her eyes, too.

She felt ridiculous, sitting there thinking about Clint. Bobbi didn’t have a clue of what she was supposed to be thinking of or how it would help. “Let me help.” Lance murmured, obviously sensing her distress – or, more likely, her lack of helpfulness in the search for Clint.

Bobbi wasn’t prepared for the rush of images that filled her head. The twang of a bowstring. Chapped lips. Hearing aids clattering against a bedside table. The oily slick of cheap pizza. Black coffee. The color purple.

She wasn’t sure where Lance’s images of Clint ended and hers began, but the sensations began to come faster, running together like watercolor paints until Bobbi couldn’t pick them apart. She could hear Hunter’s breathing becoming more rapid, but Bobbi didn’t know how to stop the images from flowing out of her head into his, or even how to slow them down.

Bobbi felt Hunter’s hands jerk away from her temples, and her eyes shot open. Lance’s eyes were so gold they were practically glowing; he was grinning from ear to ear. His hands were shaking, and he looked… manic. Bobbi frowned.

“I’ve got it. I can find him.” Lance said, even more confident than before. “You can go now, Bob. I’ve got work to do.”

Bobbi nodded, trying not feel even more upset with such an abrupt dismissal. “You know where to find me if you need me.” She said. Lance didn’t even bother nodding, staring at the map with such focus that Bobbi knew she had been entirely forgotten.

\---

After calling Natasha to inform her that S.H.I.E.L.D. was devoting resources to the cause (though she failed to mention that said resources were just her husband and his powers), Bobbi made her way to the lab. She needed to do _something,_ and she did not want to be lectured about over-exercising.

Jemma spotted her as she walked into the lab and put the vial she had been holding into a test tube rack before walking over. “Did you and Hunter finish?” She asked brightly.

“I’m finished with what Hunter needed from me.” Bobbi answered, snapping an elastic into place to keep her hair in a ponytail.

Jemma considered her for a moment, and Bobbi forced herself not to look away. “You’re upset.”

Bobbi blinked, feigning ignorance. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Lord, she was slipping if _Jemma_ could read her that easily.

“Alright then.” Jemma didn’t push the subject, instead showing Bobbi to the lab bench that she would be using for the foreseeable future. The lab was organized in a very particular manner, and Bobbi was forced to forget about Hunter while she absorbed everything that Jemma was saying. She knew Fitzsimmons could be a bit neurotic about their lab organization and she didn’t want to draw any ire.

“…and with that, we’re off for lunch!” Jemma said. Bobbi flipped her wrist so she could check her watch. It was just after noon.

“If it’s all the same –” Bobbi began, intending to put off lunch.

“We’re eating now, Bobbi.” Jemma said firmly. “And you and I are going to talk.”

Bobbi groaned. “Jemma, if you’re going to give me another article to read –”

“We’re going to _talk_.” Jemma repeated. “Come on.”

Jemma pulled them both to the kitchen, where she made two sandwiches quickly but carefully. She handed Bobbi one of the sandwiches, wrapped in butcher paper, and grabbed her other hand. Jemma pulled them through the Playground, going down hallways Bobbi hadn’t even known existed. At one point they opened a door that was labelled ‘Authorized Personnel Only’, and Bobbi wondered if they were actually authorized.

“Here.” Jemma said, stopping abruptly in front of a bay window. The view out the window was of the ocean, and Bobbi frowned. “It’s a hologram.” Jemma explained. “Fitz programmed it so that we wouldn’t get cabin fever if we couldn’t leave base.”

Jemma sat in the alcove of the window and gestured for Bobbi to sit next to her. “I know that I’m not Daisy or Elena –”

“I don’t need you to be Daisy or Elena.” Bobbi interrupted. “I like Jemma.”

“Yes, but that’s not the point.” Jemma said. “You go to them with these sorts of things, don’t you?”

Bobbi shook her head. “I don’t talk to people about feelings, Jemma. You know this.” She said. No use denying it.

“But you said Daisy made you.” Jemma pressed.

“That is because _it_ ,” Bobbi pointed to her stomach, “Is making it very difficult for me not to cry all the time, and Daisy caught me in a moment of weakness.” She unwrapped her sandwich and curled her knees against her chest, resting her chin on top of them. 

Jemma continued studying Bobbi. “I know that you’re upset.” She said softly. “If you don’t want to talk about it, that’s fine, but I care about you.” Jemma smiled hesitantly. “And if you do want to talk –”

“Of course.” Bobbi said. She attempted a smile. “You sound like Mack.” She said with a chuckle, remembering the first conversation she had had with Mack when she had returned. Granted, it was a little different, because he had been trying to prove her humanity or lack thereof, but it was the same sort of speech

“Oh? When did Mack become a British woman?” Jemma teased.

Bobbi rolled her eyes. She considered her sandwich for a moment but didn’t bite into it. “I thought that being back would make me worry about Hunter less.” She said, turning the sandwich over in her hands. “But it’s making me worry more, and I don’t know why.”

Jemma took a bite of her own sandwich, letting the comment hang in the air while she chewed. Bobbi waited anxiously for Jemma to swallow, but even after that, the scientist was quiet. “Anthropologically speaking, it would make sense for you to worry over the welfare of the father of your child. If he gets injured or killed in some way, then you have double the work to do.” Bobbi felt a little dizzy at the idea of Hunter being gone and shut her eyes tight against the image. “And your relationship is bound to change with the return to a different environment. You have to find where you individually and you as a couple fit in the grander scheme of S.H.I.E.L.D.”

She took another bite while Bobbi considered what she had already said. “Worrying is not a bad thing, Bobbi. We want to help you, even if you’re still getting used to the idea of letting us be there.” Jemma reached a foot out to nudge Bobbi’s. “Like I said, we care.”

 _Don’t cry_. Bobbi thought, taking a bite of her sandwich so she wouldn’t have to look at Jemma for a moment. “I care about you, too.” She said.

“I know.” Jemma replied matter-of-factly. “And you care about your husband.”

“My husband.” Bobbi repeated, letting the words roll off her tongue. “I don’t get to call him that enough.” She said. “At least not out loud.” Everyone knew who she was married to, so it just made more sense to say his name.

“Well, my _fiancé_ still hasn’t asked your _husband_ to be his best man.” Jemma said with a laugh. “He’s so nervous. It’s cute.”

“When _is_ your wedding?” Bobbi asked. “Does it make me a bad matron of honor if I don’t know?” She flinched at the word ‘matron’. She still hated that word.

“August third.” Jemma said, beaming. “It’s going to be rather small, just a few of our family members and friends from the Academy – and the team, of course – but, oh, Bobbi, I’m so excited! I can’t believe we scheduled it for so far away.”

“It’s only two and a half months away.” Bobbi pointed out.

“Well yes, it sounds short when you say it like that.” Jemma replied. “But you’re going to have a baby –” Bobbi reached forward and clapped her hand over Jemma’s mouth. She did not want to hear someone else say that she was going to have a baby in seven months. It was already overwhelming when Hunter said it.

“This is going to be a big year for us.” Bobbi said, releasing her hold on Jemma and relaxing back.

“The best year ever?” Jemma asked with a raised eyebrow.

“I thought you weren’t a fan of hyperbole.” Bobbi retorted.

Jemma shrugged. “It’s not hyperbole if it’s true.” Bobbi smiled, continuing to eat her sandwich.

“What’s it like to be married?” Jemma asked when they were almost done with their lunch.

Bobbi thought about it for a long, long time. “It’s a lot of work.” Which was not what anyone wanted to hear, but it was true. “You have to work to be honest with the other person, and you have to trust them to be honest with you, too. You have to put yourself second sometimes, because there’s someone else who’s affected just as much by your decisions as you are.” That was all the hard things – all the things that she and Hunter had failed at the first time. But there were good things about being married, too – otherwise no one would do it. “But when the world feels too big and too scary, there’s someone there. Someone who makes it feel bearable.”

Bobbi had to resist the urge to put her hand on her stomach. Yes, having a baby was big and scary – probably the biggest and scariest thing that she had done, because unlike with the rest of S.H.I.E.L.D., there was no training for how not to ruin a child. That was why she needed Hunter, and why she was so worried about his mission to find Clint. Bobbi felt a little better about everything now that her emotions were straightened out, but Jemma still hadn’t said anything to her explanation.

“Were you expecting something else?” Bobbi asked.

Jemma shook her head. “Just trying to figure out how that’s different from what I have now.” Bobbi felt a warm rush of joy spill over her. Jemma and Fitz were perfect for each other.

“It might not be. But now everyone else has to acknowledge that’s what you have, too.” Bobbi smiled. “For you and Fitz, it might not be that different.” There were unsaid words in the air: for Jemma and Fitz, everything would be the same. For her and Hunter, not so much.

“Yes…” Jemma said quietly. She seemed to be debating whether or not she was going to acknowledge the subtext when the watch on her wrist let out a loud beep. “Time to return to the lab.” She said with a small smile.

Bobbi stood and followed Jemma as they traced their steps through the same mess of hallways. Jemma didn’t speak, and Bobbi didn’t start another conversation, either – it was likely they weren’t going to finish it anyways.

When they stepped in the door to the lab, Bobbi wrinkled her nose. Her stomach was already protesting the smell. “Uh oh.” She mumbled, more to herself than to Jemma. Bobbi stumbled backwards a few steps, and like before, getting out of the immediate vicinity of the peanut butter scent seemed to rid her of the worst of the nausea, though she still had to focus on her breathing.

A few moments later Jemma was beside her, a cautious arm on Bobbi’s shoulder. “I’m sorry. One of the technicians took their lunch in the lab, and they’re rather fond of –”

“Don’t say the word.” Bobbi gritted out, worried of the outcome if Jemma did. “I can’t –”

“Of course.” Jemma said, squeezing her arm. Bobbi didn’t even have to admit aloud that she wasn’t capable of working around the smell of peanut butter, which was a boon. She hated admitting weakness. “I’m sorry. I’ll make sure it doesn’t happen again.”

“S’not your fault.” Bobbi murmured. “I should be able to handle this better.” She said, again more for her own sake.

“Bobbi.” Jemma said, turning the agent’s chin gently so she was facing the younger scientist. “You cannot control your reactions to certain stimuli as well as you were once able. That’s all part and parcel of being pregnant.”

“I’m gonna go find Hunter.” Bobbi mumbled. Maybe hugging her husband would help her feel less useless. Jemma nodded her agreement and bid Bobbi farewell, ducking back into the lab. Her entrance sent another whiff of peanut butter in Bobbi’s direction, so it took her a solid minute before her knees were steady enough to carry her in the direction of the interrogation room that Hunter was in.

Bobbi found the room, but when she tried the door handle, it was locked. Even after pounding on the door for a solid minute, Bobbi wasn’t admitted. Her one hope was that her husband had finished with his task and was waiting for her in their bunk.

He wasn’t there, though. Bobbi felt hollow in a way that she hadn’t expected. It was just Hunter – she was fine without him. She was Bobbi Morse, and she was a strong, independent woman who did _not_ need Lance Hunter to tell her that everything was okay. She didn’t care that he didn’t want her to come into his crazy Clint-finding lair with him. She _didn’t_.

And she wasn’t crying, no sir. She wasn’t.

She wasn’t.

(She was.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Tuesday! Thank y'all so much for your well wishes on my exams last week - I passed all of them, which means I'm now halfway done with undergraduate - crazy. Hope you enjoyed. :)


	9. i'm not looking to be found

Because she was Bobbi goddamn Morse, she got up the next morning and went to work in the lab as if she hadn’t had to run out of it the day before to almost vomit and not returned. And because she was Bobbi goddamn Morse, she continued to pretend like she didn’t care that her husband was ignoring her when she still felt like absolute shit. Twenty-four more hours went by, and still no sign of him.

Daisy snuck into the control center to look at the cameras and assured her that Hunter was still alive and well(ish) holed up in the interrogation room. According to her, the map on the table was half blacked-out with some sort of marker, and he was still staring at it.

Bobbi felt a little better knowing that Lance was at least okay, but the worry she had been feeling about him overexerting himself was becoming sharper, more insistent. It wasn’t as strong as her _Hunter is in trouble_ sense, but it wasn’t pleasant, either. She ignored it as best as she could, and time continued marching onwards.

It wasn’t until after being locked in the interrogation room for over seventy-two hours that Hunter emerged. He stumbled into the living room where Bobbi, Daisy, Jemma, and Elena were watching some rom-com, looking about as good as anyone would expect from someone who had been awake for three days straight.

“Bobbi!” He half-panted, half-shouted. “We have to go!”

Bobbi turned around in her seat, looking her husband square in the face. “We have to go find Clint.” Lance said, voice shaking with excitement, or stress, or _something_. His eyes were wilder than before, and still horribly golden. The effect was even more pronounced than before – the bruises on his face had faded to a sickly yellowish-green, leading to a striking contrast. “Come on! Before he moves!” Hunter insisted, reaching for Bobbi’s arms. She recoiled before he could touch her but stood up nonetheless.

“Guess I’m being commandeered.” She told the others, pasting a smile on her face. “Tell me if he gets the girl, alright?” Of course the main character was going to get the girl, because it was a rom-com, but Daisy looked more alarmed than Bobbi felt, and Bobbi didn’t want there to be a brawl in the living room. Making it seem like this was fine would help keep her friends from getting too skittish.

Hunter’s hand landed on her arm again, and Bobbi tried her hardest not to flinch. Even through the bandages, his hands were unnaturally warm, almost enough that they burned. “Let’s _go_!” Her husband insisted, pulling her through the base. The hangar entrance was already open, so Bobbi assumed Coulson had approved Clint’s extraction and her involvement in the mission. Truth be told, Bobbi wasn’t sure she wanted to be stuck on a plane with this unfamiliar, crazed version of her husband… but it was better her than someone else. She could handle Lance, she was sure. She had already seen the worst of him.

After settling into the pilot’s seat, Bobbi looked over at an increasingly-jittery Lance. “Where to?” She asked.

“53.222604, 26.676614.” Lance rattled off the longitude and latitude coordinates, and Bobbi blinked, not sure to make of the fact that he knew them with such certainty. She punched the coordinates into the flight system and prepared for takeoff. She was half-expecting someone to come over the intercom and tell her that the flight wasn’t authorized, but it didn’t come.

She still didn’t relax once the plane was in the air. Lance was vibrating in his seat, and Bobbi was trying to figure out what was up. He had never acted like this before after using his abilities, and she wasn’t sure what had changed other than the duration of the use. Before, spending too much time in his head had caused him not to be able to see when he returned to the real world. Why would any longer allow him to retain his sight, but not his sanity? This was definitely a problem for Jemma.

Lance was too lost in his head to notice her brooding, which was a double-edged sword. He didn’t press her for information, but Bobbi also got the feeling, once again, that he barely noticed that she was there – or if he did, he didn’t care. She bit down on her bottom lip, more determined than before to keep her emotions from overwhelming her. She very much doubted that this version of Lance would be much of a comfort to her, anyways.

“So, where are we going?” Bobbi asked after a few minutes of silence.

“Belarus. It’s a town called Nyasvizh. I think he’s in some kind of warehouse.” Lance answered, voice clipped.

“That’s a long way from Peru.” Bobbi commented.

Lance turned and gave her a smile, one that made her almost believe he was alright again. “No kidding.” He told her. Then, just as quickly as the moment had come, it faded, and Lance was back to being a tremoring, distracted mess.

Bobbi pondered for a while before speaking. “How about you try to sleep, teacup? You’ve been awake for a while.”

Lance shook his head. “I drank a Red Bull right before I came to get you. I’m fine.” Bobbi didn’t consider over-caffeinated to be the same as fine. “Besides, what if he moves?” The golden hue in his eyes intensified for a moment, and Bobbi guessed that he was checking that Clint had not, in fact, moved.

“Okay.” Bobbi said. She wasn’t going to waste her energy arguing with him, not when he was like this. That would just frustrate her, and she was already emotionally overwrought after just spending a few minutes with this stranger in her husband’s body.

The flight was awkward, even more so because Bobbi knew that Lance didn’t realize that she was uncomfortable. After an hour of silently monitoring the plane’s various functions, she turned to him again. “Is he alone?” She asked.

“Yeah.” Lance replied, without even checking using his powers. “I wouldn’t have brought you if I thought you were going to get hurt, Bob.”

Bobbi pinched the bridge of her nose, unsure whether she should be pleased that he had considered her safety in all of this. That meant that she had to accept that her Lance was still somewhere underneath the gold-eyed, strung-out exterior. It was easier to think of them as two separate entities, because she didn’t want to believe that her husband would snub her the way Lance had the past three days, even if he was buried under something else’s control.

“I was planning on leaving you on the plane, actually.” Lance said. Bobbi clamped down on the flare of annoyance that rose in her stomach. Lance was right. Even if there weren’t any people with Clint, there were still a hundred other ways to get hurt, and she wasn’t going to put herself in danger. Still, she wasn’t _luggage_ to be left behind as he pleased.

“Fine.” She gritted out. “Will you be fine carrying Clint back here, if he can’t move himself?” She asked. Lance’s arms were still in a sorry state, she thought as she looked at them.

“You haven’t changed your bandages.” She said, standing up from the pilot seat so that she could grab the first aid kit they kept on all the Quinjets. Bobbi returned to her seat after grabbing the kit, flipping it open and pulling out a roll of gauze. “Arm.” She commanded. Lance hadn’t responded to her question, or her comment about the bandages, or her order, either.

“Hunter.” Bobbi snapped, losing her patience in trying to get his attention.

Lance shook his head like a dog shaking off water, and then looked at her. “What?” He asked dumbly.

Bobbi repeated her question about Clint and got a nod in response. “Now give me your arm.” She said. Lance held his arms straight out in front of him, stiff as a board. Bobbi snapped on a pair of gloves from the medical kit and began unwrapping the soiled bandages from Lance’s arms, sighing a little when she saw the burns beneath. They didn’t look like they were getting better whatsoever, the skin still swollen and shiny.  

“You need to take better care of yourself.” Bobbi muttered. Naturally, he didn’t respond. She dropped the old bandages into a plastic bag, sealing it methodically before beginning to unroll the fresh bandages, wrapping them around the burns with as much patience and care as she could afford – which wasn’t nearly as much as it would have been if she had been tasked with the same duty before they got on the plane. There was still heat radiating off Lance’s skin in waves, and Bobbi sighed as she finished bandaging him, grabbing the thermometer out of the medical kit as well.

“Open.” She commanded. Her husband actually listened to her the first time, and Bobbi was able to stick the thermometer under his tongue easily. She watched as the mercury climbed higher up the glass chute and closed her eyes as it crept up to the 103-degree mark. Hunter should have been resting with a dose of acetaminophen in his system, not gallivanting across the globe to rescue someone. As much as Bobbi wanted to believe that the fever was just a result of stress and a messed-up sleeping schedule, from what she had seen of Hunter’s injuries, it was likely that the fever was the result of an infection.

Bobbi forced herself to take a deep breath, unwilling to admit that she was just a little panicked by the situation she had put herself into. Hunter was in no state, mentally or physically, to go out into the field. She wondered again if her assumption that Coulson had cleared the mission was erroneous. Yes, the director was eager to get in the good graces of the Avengers again, _especially_ Clint and Natasha, but he wouldn’t do that at the expense of Hunter’s safety… would he?

Bobbi didn’t have much time to consider all of her options. Every idea that she had was a bad one. She couldn’t let Lance, half-delirious with lack of sleep and excess of caffeine, go into the field alone. He would get himself killed if anything went wrong. Going with him wouldn’t be much better, because then she’d have to keep an eye on him while also getting Clint out safely.

That left the least-awful option, which was going to extract Clint by herself. Bobbi hadn’t even changed into her tactical gear before leaving the base, because Lance had been so insistent that they had to leave immediately. There were weapons on the plane, so she wouldn’t be going in unarmed, but… this was a _really_ shitty situation, and when Hunter came to his senses again, he was going to be getting an earful.

In the time between when she made her decision and when the plane landed in Belarus, Bobbi did three things. First, she ascertained directions from Lance as to where to land and how to get to the warehouse Clint was being held in. Second, she picked up an ICER from the Quinjet’s arsenal. Third, she shot her husband in the chest with a potent dendrotoxin, three times.

Bobbi ignored the swell of anxiety that burbled in her stomach and crept up her throat as Lance hit the ground. He hadn’t been lucid enough to really comprehend what had happened, and Bobbi wasn’t sure whether that made things better or worse.

The sky was turning gray around the edges, and Bobbi realized she had no idea what time it was – they had left the Playground after dinner, but she didn’t even know how far after dinner it had been, or how long the flight had taken, or _anything_. She was losing her edge, and she didn’t like it. At least the half-light of dawn was better for vision than darkness.

The directions Hunter had given her to the warehouse weren’t the easiest to follow, since he could only guess at distances, but there were only so many abandoned warehouses in their general area, and Bobbi found a promising one within a few minutes. She drew the pistol that she had tucked into the waistband of her jeans, clicking off the safety as she rounded the back of the warehouse. There was a spatter of dried blood on the doorframe. That was promising – in a finding-Clint sort of way, not a keeping-safe sort of way.

Bobbi opened the door slowly, and it glided on well-oiled hinges. That was enough to make her tense. The entire place looked rundown and unused – it shouldn’t have had doors that opened that easily. There was more blood immediately on the inside of the door, and Bobbi followed the trail of brown-ish red splatters to the furthest corner from the entrance. The weak light that slanted in from the high windows barely reached the huddled form in the corner, but Bobbi didn’t need light to recognize Clint.

Bobbi crept over the concrete floor of the warehouse, mindful of the cracks that would make her stumble if she wasn’t careful. She kept her body molded to the wall, as deep in the shadows as she could manage. The place was empty, like Hunter had predicted, but Bobbi still had the lingering feeling that someone would be coming back soon.

She finally reached the corner where Clint was laying, out cold. Bobbi didn’t holster her gun as she reached out and took Clint’s pulse. He let out a soft moan of pain as her fingers brushed against his bruised neck but didn’t open his eyes. Bobbi made a note not to touch him again, not wanting any more noise than was absolutely necessary. She did a quick visual inspection of her ex-partner, finding that in addition to the bruises splashed across his neck and face, he also had an arm that was hanging out of its socket and a deep thigh wound that had a green ring around it (poison, maybe?) and was oozing pus. He needed medical attention, and fast.

Bobbi debated the merits of trying to relocate the dislocated arm herself, but decided that keeping Clint unconscious and complacent would be for the better; having him awake while she moved him wasn’t going to be fun for either of them. Finding a way to carry Clint that didn’t jostle his various injuries proved nearly impossible, especially given that it wasn’t a short walk back to the plane and Clint was _big_.

Clint ended up in a fireman’s carry over her shoulder, and while the light of dawn had been a blessing before, now it was a curse. It was hard to hide the fact that she was carrying an unconscious body, and Bobbi was not in the business of attracting attention, especially since she had been forced to holster her gun in order to keep Clint balanced on her shoulder.

When she stumbled back onto the Quinjet, Bobbi found Hunter still unconscious where she had left him, which was about the only thing that day that was going to plan. She strapped both Clint and Lance into seats in the back of the jet before taking off, eager to leave behind the Belarusian town as quickly as possible. She didn’t think that anyone had seen her, but she felt a lot better after they had lifted off and the Quinjet’s cloaking had been activated.

Among the things she didn’t have access too was a change of clothes, which was absolutely excellent, because now Bobbi was going to spend the rest of the flight smelling like dirt and blood, both courtesy of Clint. At least the stench was keeping her from falling asleep, Bobbi thought ruefully. She did some mental calculations to try to figure out what time it would be when they got back to the Avengers facility. If they had left the Playground at seven, and it took six hours to get to Nyasvizh, and she had been out of the Quinjet for half an hour…

Well, it was going to be early morning, that much was certain. Bobbi began composing a mental to-do list for the flight to keep herself distracted. She needed to call Natasha to tell her that Clint had been found, and then call Jemma to ask her what was wrong with Hunter, and then call _Coulson_ to give him a status update… Bobbi sighed. She was going to be on the phone for a long while – assuming that people picked up, which wasn’t a given, since it was the middle of the night.

Bobbi was about to begin her list of phone calls when she heard a noise from the back of the plane. She double-checked the autopilot before going back to investigate.

Hunter was awake and fumbling with the buckles strapping him into the seat clumsily. He looked up when she entered his line of sight, confusion contorting his features when he spotted her stained blouse. His eyes were back to brown, Bobbi noted with a bit of relief.

“The blood’s not mine.” She said automatically. Lance then looked down at his own body, patting himself. “It’s not yours either.” Bobbi said. She gestured with her hand towards Clint’s unconscious body. Her husband stared at her former partner, obviously just noticing him.

“Why the fuck are we with Barton?” Lance asked. “Where are we?”

Bobbi furrowed her brow. “We’re somewhere over Europe. We’re with Barton because we were sent to rescue him.” _Dipshit_. She added mentally. Was his lack of sleep finally catching up to Hunter? Had the dendrotoxin done something to his brain?

“Wait – why are _you_ here?” Her husband asked, alarm creeping into his voice. “Bobbi, you promised –” He snapped his jaw shut, looking nothing short of betrayed. She closed her eyes, sighing softly. She _had_ promised that she wasn’t going to go into the field while pregnant; it was just common sense. But there were extenuating circumstances, and… And Hunter wasn’t going to accept that answer.

“You asked me to come.” She replied. “And you weren’t able to complete the mission, so I… I had to.” Bobbi swallowed back the bile that burned at her throat, the severity of the situation crashing over her in a wave. Her legs felt a little shaky, but Bobbi forced her knees to stay straight.

“I don’t remember any of this.” Lance said flatly.

Once again Bobbi was sure that she was going to vomit. But once again, she didn’t; her legs just wobbled slightly before she managed to steady herself again. “That’s not good, Hunter.” She whispered. She might have been able to accept the golden eyes and the crazed thinking if he came back to his senses eventually and apologized, but Lance just forgetting everything? She didn’t know if she could deal with that, because apologizing for something you didn’t remember… that was useless.

“I didn’t think so.” His shoulders sagged, and Bobbi couldn’t remember the last time she had seen her husband look so… defeated.

“We still need to talk about this.” Bobbi told him, reaching over to put a hand on his shoulder. They weren’t doing the avoiding an argument thing anymore, but now hardly seemed the appropriate time. Lance bobbed his head in a nod. He moved to get out of the seat, but evidently all of his scrabbling at the buckles around his torso hadn’t actually undone any of them. “Here.” Bobbi said, kneeling in front of her husband to release the harness.

Hunter stood and offered a hand for Bobbi to help her up, too. “I’m sorry.”

Bobbi settled a hand against his shoulder. “When I said we needed to talk, I didn’t mean now, stupid.” She said. “You should really go back to sleep.” A thirty-minute dendrotoxin-induced nap was hardly a replacement for the sleep he had missed across the last three days.

“No, I’m fine.” Her husband replied, voice hollow. “I just need to think. Maybe then I’ll remember.” He moved to the cockpit, sitting in the copilot’s seat with a heavy sigh.

“Do you want me to tell you the story? See if it’ll jog anything?” Bobbi offered. Lance hesitated but nodded.

After regaling him with the events of the past seventy-two hours – or at least the ones she remembered – Bobbi studied her husband’s face. It still looked vaguely empty, like there was something missing from him.

“I’m still missing time before that.” Hunter said. “Last thing I remember is us – where we go, we go together.” He took a shaky breath. “ _Fuck_ , what did I do, Bob?” He asked. “I can’t…” He didn’t finish his sentence, instead biting back a sob.

“Shh.” Bobbi said, lifting herself out of the pilot’s seat to gather him in her arms. She still wasn’t pleased with his actions the past few days, but it was obvious that the lack of memory was disturbing him, and rightly so – it was freaking her out, too. But she was going to be the calm one in this situation, because being pissed off and having a near-mental breakdown were on two totally different levels. “It’ll be okay, baby.” She assured him, even though she had no evidence to support that claim. “All we have to do is drop Clint off and then we can have Jemma take a look at you, okay?” She felt Lance’s head shift in a nod and gave him a tighter squeeze. “We’re going to be okay.” Bobbi repeated.

“Are you?” He asked, voice muffled by her clothing.

“Am I what, teacup?”

“Are you okay, too?” He clarified.

“I’m fine.” Bobbi said, running her fingers absently through his hair. “Baby bird is fine.” Lance made a soft hiccupping noise, and she felt the pads of his thumbs pressing against her abdomen, still fiery warm. The sensation was less unnerving with such a tender gesture, and Bobbi was able to relax into the touch. “But we’d both be better if we knew you were good.”

Bobbi felt a rush of breath against her neck as her husband exhaled, and then the gentle pressure on her stomach released. “I’m good.” Lance said, sweeping his hand over his eyes to clear the last of the tears. “I’m sorry. You’re supposed to be the emotional one.”

Bobbi narrowed her eyes. “A job I do _not_ enjoy. Trust me, I like comforting you a lot better.” That drew a smile out of him, and Bobbi leaned forward to kiss her husband’s cheek. “I have some calls I need to make before we land. Are you sure you don’t want to sleep?” She asked, settling back into the pilot’s seat.

“I’m sure.” Hunter answered before she had finished speaking. “I feel better when I’m with you.” His voice sounded raw with emotion, and Bobbi reached over to squeeze his shoulder.

“I love you. Don’t forget that.” Yes, he was infuriating in about twelve different ways, but Bobbi had put all of her eggs in Hunter’s basket. And that was a really, really stupid metaphor that just made her think of ovaries and babies, and Bobbi really _was_ tired.

“I won’t.” He answered, pulling her from her rambling internal monologue. “I definitely won’t.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Tuesday! This chapter was supposed to be a lot longer, but I decided to split it into two parts to preserve my own sanity (and to get it posted on time). Hope you enjoyed. :)


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